It wrought instantly a change in the feelings of the household; for anger and vexation took the place of grief and anxiety. “It is too bad of Mary,” everybody said; and hot words of blame were spoken freely. Nobody took her part very courageously. Even Margaret admitted that her friend had been, at the very least, guilty of great cowardice, while Miss Copeland abused her in unmeasured terms; and only Tom Whitwell pleaded that they would give her time to explain before they judged and condemned her.
It had been arranged that Mr. Dallington should drive his cousin home. He had come, as he thought, to the wedding, and seeing that there was to be none, he thought they should leave early. Dr. Stapleton was to have taken Miss Miller to Darentdale, but as he had not returned she accepted Dallington’s invitation, and accompanied him and Miss Whitwell.
“I told you that I believed the wedding would not take place, did I not, John?” asked the latter, as soon as they had started.
“Yes, you did, Tom; but I consider that your friend has disgraced her womanhood in acting as she has done. If I were Greenholme I would never forgive her.”
“I am sure she will never ask him,” said Tom. “But she has been a great coward through it all.”
“She ought never to have allowed herself to be engaged to him,” said Margaret; “but having done so she ought to have gone through with it.”
“And been miserable for ever after,” added Tom.
And then the clouds cleared away; for why should three healthy happy young people be sad because one had been stupid?
Late in the evening Dr. Stapleton called at Mr. Wythburn’s to make inquiries. He only stayed a few minutes; and when he left the vicar went with him. They parted after ten minutes’ walk, and as they did so Mr. Sherborne looked straight into the doctor’s eyes, and suddenly asked him a question. “Stapleton, do you know where Miss Wythburn is?”
The doctor started violently, and the colour first came into his face, and then left him pale.