”Kathleen Weir.”
Webster read this letter, and at once understood its meaning. Kathleen Weir wished to be free, and she believed that John Temple had given her cause to seek a divorce, and that if she were anxious to obtain one, that he would offer no opposition; nay, gladly aid her in her desire. She also meant, and Webster smiled a little scornfully as he thought this, that she intended to make him pay for his freedom. They were to play into each other’s hands in fact, and she wished some confidential friend or agent to approach him on the subject.
“I wonder if she intends this honor for me,” he reflected, bitterly. And he thought of May Churchill with a quick pang of pain.
If this woman could obtain a divorce, and would accept money to be divorced, which no doubt John Temple would gladly pay, he would be free to marry May. Webster bit his lips and frowned angrily at this idea. This no doubt was Kathleen Weir’s design; she would not scruple, she had said, to invent a charge of cruelty against him, and for the rest she had a perfectly good case.
Webster began walking restlessly up and down the room after he had considered the actress’ letter, but he determined to do nothing to aid her.
But if she succeeded, what should he do? What would be best and kindest to the poor girl whose heart John Temple had nearly broken?
It was a painful question, not easy to answer or to solve, but at all events Kathleen Weir had not yet obtained her divorce.
“I will go and see her,” he decided; “I will learn exactly what she means to do.”
Therefore on the following evening he did go to see her, and she was very pleased to welcome him. She started up as he entered the room, and held out her little white hand.
“How good of you to come,” she said. “I have been wishing so much to see you.”