'But why was John looking for us, after—after all this time?' she said, in a fainter, weaker voice, dropping at the same time into a chair.
Eugénie hesitated; then said, firmly, 'Because he wished to find you, more than anything else in the world. And my father and I helped him all we could—'
'But you didn't know?'—Phoebe caught piteously at her dress—'you didn't know—?'
'That Mr. Fenwick was married? No—never!—till last autumn. That was his wrong-doing, towards all his old friends.'
Phoebe looked at the dignity and pureness of the face before her, and shrank a little.
'And how was it found out?' she breathed, turning away.
'There was a Miss Morrison—'
'Bella Morrison!' cried Phoebe, suddenly, clasping her hands—'Bella!
Of course, she did it to disgrace him.'
'We never knew what her motive was. But she told—an old friend—who told us.'
'And then—what did John say?'