"I'm afraid this will hurt you and Joanna terribly, but I expect you have already guessed what has happened. I am on my way to San Remo, to join Sir Harry Trevor, and I am never coming back, because I know now that I ought not to have married you. I do not ask you to forgive me, and I'm sure Joanna won't, but I had to think of my own happiness, and I never was a good wife to you. Believe me, I have done my best—I said 'Good-bye for ever' to Harry a month ago, but ever since then my life has been one long misery; I cannot live without him.
"ELLEN."
"Well, it's only told us what we knew already," said Joanna with a gulp, "but now we're sure we can do better than just talk about it."
"What can we do?"
"We can get the Old Squire's address from somebody—Mrs. Williams or the people at North Farthing House—and then send a telegram after her, telling her to come back."
"That won't be much use."
"It'll be something, anyway. Maybe when she gets out there in foreign parts she won't be so pleased—or maybe he never asked her to come, and he'll have changed his mind about her. We must try and get her back. Where have you told your folk she's gone to?"
"I've told 'em she's gone to stop with you."
"Well, I can't pretend she's here. You might have thought of something better, Arthur."
"I can't think of nothing else."