“I have been thinking, my dear—” he said.
Then he stopped, perfectly calm, though both chairs were empty, and his lips quivered slightly.
“It is a lie—a cruel lie! God bless her! I’ll not believe it!”
He muttered this as he went on, and was about to ring the bell, when he hesitated. Should he?—should he not?
It would be braver and better to do so, he thought, and would show his calm confidence to his servants.
But why should he trouble them? Poor sweet! her head had been aching a good deal that day, she said, and she had gone to lie down. Ruth, perhaps, was with her. He would go up and see.
He went slowly up to the bedroom—tapped; there was no answer, and he softly entered, to find the lights burning and something white upon the toilet-table—something white that caught his eye on the instant, and involuntarily he said:
“A note!”
Of course—a note to explain why she was not there.
He glanced at himself in the long cheval-glass that had so often reflected the form of his beautiful wife. His face was very pale, but he could see that he looked perfectly cool and collected as he crossed to the toilet-table and took up the note.