Bernard was silent. It was impossible to look forward. One thing was certain. He could not desert Stella.
Ralston passed on. Being reticent himself he respected a man who could keep his own counsel.
"What about Mrs. Ermsted?" he said. "When will you see her?"
"To-night," said Bernard, setting his jaw.
Ralston smiled briefly. That look recalled his brother. "No time like the present," he said.
But the time for consultation with Netta Ermsted upon the future of her child was already past. When Bernard, very firm and purposeful, walked down again after dinner that night, Ralston met him with a wry expression and put a crumpled note into his hand.
"Mrs. Ermsted has apparently divined your benevolent intentions," he said.
Bernard read in silence, with meeting brows.
DEAR MARY:
This is to wish you and all kind friends good-bye. So that there may be no misunderstanding on the part of our charitable gossips, pray tell them at once that I have finally chosen the broad road as it really suits me best. As for Tessa—I bequeath her and her little morals to the first busybody who cares to apply for them. Perhaps the worthy Father Monck would like to acquire virtue in this fashion. I find the task only breeds vice in me. Many thanks for your laborious and, I fear, wholly futile attempts to keep me in the much too narrow way.
Yours,
NETTA.
Bernard looked up from the note with such fiery eyes that Ralston who was on the verge of a scathing remark himself had to stop out of sheer curiosity to see what he would say.