“Well, William?” she said.
William kissed her, but there was triumph in his heart as he pressed his mustache against her firm lips. He was thinking of his girl, and thinking of her with pride.
“Have you heard anything?” half-whispered Mrs. Churchill, as she tried to lead him into the hall. But Mr. Churchill seemed in no hurry to impart his news. He gave directions to the groom who had driven him from the station regarding the horse in the dog-cart, and inquired about another animal that was ill. Then, at last, he turned and entered the house, and Mrs. Churchill having closed the door behind him, followed him into the dining-room.
“Have you heard anything of May?” she again inquired quickly.
“Yes,” answered Mr. Churchill, nodding his head, while a pleased smile spread over his face; “it is all right; May is now Mrs. John Temple, and I saw the register of the marriage and the clergyman who married them myself.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Mrs. Churchill, genuinely astonished.
And for a moment or two—so strange is the human heart—she felt a pang of disappointment at the good news. She had always prophesied evil things of May, and to hear that she was suddenly raised in social position so far above herself, gave her an unpleasant sensation.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Churchill, somewhat boastfully, “my girl has done well for herself, hasn’t she, Sarah? I went first to the ladies where she lived after she left here, until she married Mr. John Temple. They were two real ladies, clergyman’s daughters, and elderly, and had known Mr. John Temple for years, and he asked them to take charge of her until he could make her his wife. And you should have heard how they spoke of her, in the highest terms, and they went to the church when she was married, and so it’s all on the square.”
“Then why was there all this secrecy?” asked Mrs. Churchill, for she had not yet got over her chagrin.