He handed me the letter. As soon as I had recovered myself, I looked at it.
There was this inscription on the address: “For my good master, to wait until he returns home.” The few lines in the letter itself ran thus:
“Distressing circumstances oblige me to leave you, sir, and do not permit me to enter into particulars. In asking your pardon, I offer my sincere thanks for your kindness, and my fervent prayers for your welfare.”
That was all. The date had a special interest for me. Mrs. Mozeen had written on the day when she must have received my letter—the letter which has already appeared in these pages.
“Is there really nothing known of the poor woman’s motives?” I asked.
“There are two explanations suggested,” the doctor informed me. “One of them, which is offered by your female servants, seems to me absurd. They declare that Mrs. Mozeen, at her mature age, was in love with the young man who is your footman! It is even asserted that she tried to recommend herself to him, by speaking of the money which she expected to bring to the man who would make her his wife. The footman’s reply, informing her that he was already engaged to be married, is alleged to be the cause which has driven her from your house.”
I begged that the doctor would not trouble himself to repeat more of what my women servants had said.
“If the other explanation,” I added, “is equally unworthy of notice—”
“The other explanation,” the doctor interposed, “comes from Mr. Rothsay, and is of a very serious kind.”
Rothsay’s opinion demanded my respect.