“Your husband—Mr. Temple, has been thrown from his horse,” answered Miss Webster in an agitated voice.
“John! Oh! where is he?” cried May, and her face grew very white. “I will go to him at once,” and she grasped Miss Webster’s arm.
“No, dear, you can not go just now,” said Miss Webster, soothingly; “you can not see him just now—you must think of the child, May—”
A cry burst from May’s pale lips, and she looked eagerly in Miss Webster’s face, which was full of pity and distress.
“Tell me the worst!” gasped May. “I—I—see—Oh! God! it can not be!”
“My dear—” began Miss Webster, and then her kindly lips refused their office.
“Tell me—” repeated May, huskily, “is he—is he—”
“My dear, he has passed away from all earthly troubles,” answered Miss Webster, in broken accents; “he has been thrown from his horse and his head injured—but May, my dear, my dear, you have a duty before you—be brave, and bear this great blow for your child’s sake.”
But with a moan May sank prone upon the floor; and as she did so the frantic cries of Mrs. Temple still sounded in her ears!