"Yes, he was here. I think, Paul, though I am not quite sure, and I do not want to assert anything not quite the case, that Grace sent for him."
Paul had a natural movement of anger;—Why should a third person be sent for by his wife? What business had any third person to come between them?
"Where has she gone?" he asked, his self-reproach of an hour ago still softening him towards Grace.
"I really do not know—but to Scotland I think. I heard her say to Sir Albert, 'You will escort me,' and he said he was going to Scotland, so I suppose she has gone there also."
"And left no message, or note, or anything for me?" said Paul, with rising anger, not yet fully understanding that Grace had really gone.
"Oh, my dear Paul! how stupid I am. Yes, she left a note for you, or a letter—let me see was it a letter?—no, I remember thinking it was oddly folded."
"Will you please give it to me?" asked Paul with the calmness of despair.
"My dear Paul, if you would only not hurry me and flurry me so," said his mother, as she sought in her pockets, one after another, and then looked under the china ornaments on the mantel-piece, and drove her son wild altogether.
At last she said as a brilliant idea crossed her mind, "I remember now. I was so afraid of forgetting it that I put it inside one of your slippers, Paul, and I knew that you were quite sure to find it to-night, when you put your slippers on. I think it was rather clever of me, eh Paul?"
But Paul had left the room.