“Why don’t you cable, then?  I am going in town this morning, and I will send a message for you, if you wish,” craftily suggested his sister, who felt very uncomfortable at the thought of his starting off so suddenly:  for he might meet his wife just at the very moment when success was about to crown her plans.

She had heard from Mrs. Farnum only once since her coup d’etat, when she had given an account of that last interview with the heart-broken wife.  The letter had been posted that same day, for the woman had not hoped that Virgie would leave the house so quickly, even though she knew she was going to be asked to do so; and as she knew her friend would be anxious to learn the result of her last measure, and as a steamer was to sail the next morning, she had written immediately.

“I suppose you might cable and get a reply before a steamer sails,” murmured Sir William, thoughtfully.  “It does not seem as if I could wait even the time it would take for me to get to her.”

“I suppose you are very anxious.  It is natural that you should be,” responded Lady Linton, as she broke an egg into her cup and busied herself seasoning it, although she did not even taste it after it was prepared.  Excitement and anxiety had destroyed her appetite.

Two or three times every week, of late, there had been just such a scene as this when the mail came in after the arrival of a steamer.

No letters came from Virgie.  At least, he received none; for they were all cunningly abstracted before the bag came into the house, and Sir William did not dream that any one possessed a key to it save himself, and so, of course was unsuspicious of any plot.

It was simply unaccountable to him, and he was, as he said, almost wild from anxiety on account of his dear ones.

He could not touch his food this morning, his disappointment was so great, and he nervously unfolded his paper and began to look for an announcement of the sailing of some steamer.

“The Cephalonia will sail on Saturday,” he remarked, at length.  “This is Wednesday.  I shall leave on Friday for Liverpool.  You can break the news to my mother, and I am sure you will do very well without me until my return.  She must strive to be reasonable, for I cannot live like this another week.”

“Very well; I will do my best to keep her cheerful while you are gone,” returned Lady Linton, trying to appear at ease, although she was quaking in mortal fear lest all her plotting should come to naught.

She sometimes regretted having written that last letter and sent that hundred pounds to Virgie.  She began to fear that she might have overreached herself by so doing, for, if her brother and his wife should meet, Virgie would of course tell her husband everything, and he would at once understand that his sister had been guilty of all the mischief—­intercepted letters, and all.  She knew that he would never forgive her; she would be ignominiously banished from Heathdale, and be obliged to hide herself at Linton Grange, where she would lead a life of poverty and seclusion; so it is not strange that she trembled at the thought of Sir William sailing for America.