"No, he is not arrested—but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr.
Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement.
"How did you hear this?"
"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I—I am afraid I have something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not—"
"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps.
"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me. It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted the vicar as to whether we should tell you."
"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved.
"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We thought you would be terribly pained and startled."
Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face.
"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt.
"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did," said she.