“Dear Mr. Henderson: Will you meet me to-morrow in the lane that leads to the West Lodge, at half-past three o’clock? I shall be walking, as I do not wish anyone to know of this appointment, and if I am not there at the time I mention, it will only be that it is absolutely impossible that I can manage to go. In that case I will go on the following afternoon, at the same time. At last I have something to tell you on the subject we talked of before; it is almost a certainty this time. In haste, yours very truly,
“R. Temple.”
She took this letter with her own hands to the nearest village post-office, not caring to place it among the other letters in the post-bag lying on the hall table, and as she was returning from her errand she encountered John Temple on the road, who was also going to the post office.
Her face flushed deeply as she met him, and a scarcely repressible feeling of anger rose in her heart; while John Temple, ignorant of the cause, looked at her with his usually pleasant smile.
“So you are taking a walk?” he said.
She hardly answered him. She was a very passionate woman, and could not hide her feelings. She stood looking at him, burning to accuse him of what she deemed his treachery and deception.
“And are you,” she said, presently, very bitterly, “carrying a letter to some hidden lady-love; a letter that you do not wish the household to see?”
John Temple was conscious that he slightly changed color.
“You are always accusing me of something or other,” he said.