“For me?”
“For Mrs. Beverly Peele.”
“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, “it has come. This is from Mr. Peele. Do let me read it—I can’t wait.”
She tore the envelope open and read hastily:—
Dear Patience,—On the night of the day of your departure from Peele Manor, my son came up to us in a distracted condition. He had also contracted the grippe. The combination of disorders produced delirium and serious illness. For that reason and others we have not endeavoured to communicate with you. In fact, I only ascertained yesterday that you were working for Mr. Field, who I consider has further betrayed my friendship in associating himself with you in your insubordination.
Of course you are at liberty to act as you choose. The laws of this country are wretchedly inadequate regarding the authority of the husband. But one thing I insist upon: that you call upon us and make a definite statement of what you purpose to do. If you have repented and wish to return to us, we will overlook this wretched mistake. If you intend definitely to leave your husband and to follow the disgraceful life of a reporter on a sensational newspaper, you owe it to us to come here in person and define your position. The family with which you have allied yourself, my dear young woman, is not one to be dismissed with a note of three lines.
I particularly request that you call at three o’clock this afternoon.
Yours truly
Gardiner Peele.
Patience handed the note to Mr. Field, who read it with much interest.