Long after daybreak he returned to his lonely house and found his sister awaiting him in deep anxiety.
She saw by one glance at his face that he had been unsuccessful. He walked into the study, threw himself into a chair; she followed him, and touched him softly on the shoulder. He looked up wildly, like a man whose wits are going.
‘You have heard nothing?’ she asked.
He shook his head in despair.
‘I feared you would not,’ she continued. ‘My dear James, you must have courage—you must look this terrible event in the face. May I speak to you? Do you think you can bear to talk of it, of her?’
‘What have you to say?’
His tone was irritable, almost querulous.
‘Only this, James—that you must not torture yourself unnecessarily. Remember there are others who love you—myself—your darling boy. If Madeline has left you, it is of her own freewill. I am not surprised that you have not found her; she doubtless provided well against that. She wished to leave you! Don’t forget that!’
‘Why should she wish it?’ he groaned.
‘Why do other wives leave their husbands? They do leave them, every day.’