There was a moment’s silence, during which he felt a prey to greater and more paralyzing nervousness than he had experienced since the preaching of his first sermon.
The pause was broken by the opening of the door, and the appearance of Burks with a letter on a tray.
“This is sent down from the Vicarage, ma’am,” she said, addressing her mistress, “and the maid says will Mr. Carfax kindly read it at once.”
She handed the tray to the Vicar, who took the letter, and with a murmured apology, broke the envelope. A note from his wife dropped out first. He picked it up, and hurriedly glanced through its contents.
“I am wild with anxiety. I send you the enclosed, which has just come from Mrs. Lovell, so that you may read it while you are with Miss Page. She may perhaps be able to throw some light upon the matter. At any rate, ask her advice. She is so good and wise.”
The Vicar snatched up the other letter, which mechanically, in a dazed voice, he began to read aloud.
“My dear Mary,
“I hasten to tell you, though I fear too late, of something I have just heard about your dear Sylvia. She has signed a contract to go to America with a theatrical travelling company, and I am told that she has already sailed. The manager I understand to be a man of bad character, as indeed he must be to induce a girl to leave England without her parents’ consent. This has come to my knowledge in a roundabout way through a chorus girl who happens to be related to my maid. I should have telegraphed, but Simpkins has just showed me the announcement of the company’s departure from Liverpool, and in that case a telegram is useless.
“All my sympathy, dear. In haste,
“Your affectionate