The Rector raised a deprecative hand.
“That’s where the whole trouble came in, apparently. It weighed on his mind—a very proud man. He took the first chance that offered.”
“Pardon my questioning you,” said Joyce, “but I am quite in the dark as to what you are referring to. The last letter, two years back, that I received from Mrs. Chisely was dated from here. She was happily married and all that. I am an old friend of hers. What has happened?”
“I can only repeat the gossip, Mr. Chisely. It seems that just about then some misfortune arose—a first husband of Mrs. Chisely’s, supposed dead, turned up, and so there was a separation.”
“And where is Mrs. Chisely now?”
“That’s more than I can say. A lady—a great friend of mine—also I believe a connexion of your own—”
“Mrs. Winstanley?”
“The same. I see you know her. She may be able to inform you. I believe she has said authoritatively that the late Mrs. Chisely went back to her former husband.”
“That I can’t believe,” said Joyce, indignantly.
“I can only give you what I hear,” said the Rector, placidly. “I know Bishop Chisely went to Paris, where they were supposed to be, before starting for New Zealand. But Mrs. Winstanley will tell you.”