“If going to America would result in finding my wife, I would go a thousand times over,” Sir William responded, sternly, and then added, with a note of agony in his voice:  “Oh, where can my darling have hidden herself?  Miriam,” turning suddenly upon his sister, “can you suggest any reason for this terrible misunderstanding?—­who could have intercepted all of our letters?—­who could have conspired, for it seems like a conspiracy, to separate us?”

For a moment Lady Linton turned faint and sick with the fear that he had discovered something to arouse his suspicions against her; but second thought told her that such could not be the case.

“What could I suggest?” she demanded, assuming an expression of surprise.  “You forget that I know nothing of this woman who lured your heart from us, save what I have been told.  She may have had a rustic lover who is seeking his revenge by trying to separate you—­a lover who has poisoned her mind against you, and perhaps won her allegiance back to himself.”

“What utter nonsense you are talking, Miriam!” the baronet interrupted, indignantly.  “How little you appreciate the refinement of the girl whom I have married!  True, you have never seen her; but one look at the face that I have shown you ought to have told you that she could have been won by no rustic.”

Lady Linton shrugged her shoulders expressively.

“As for your letters,” she said, flashing a swift, keen glance at him, “if you think they have been tampered with on this side of the Atlantic, I advise you to question Robert, since he has the exclusive charge of your mail-bag.”

“Robert, indeed!  I would as soon question my own honesty as his; besides, no one has a key to it but myself,” Sir William asserted, confidently.

Lady Linton breathed freely now, for it was evident that he had no suspicion of her.

“True; and Robert has been faithful too many years to be lightly suspected,” she remarked, appreciatively.

“But this suspense is insupportable!  It is killing me!” cried her brother, rising, and excitedly pacing the floor.

“No doubt it is trying,” his sister replied, coldly.

“Trying!” he repeated, bitterly; “you are very sympathetic, Miriam; you are as cold as ice.”

“Well, William, you know well enough that I never approved of your marriage.  It was a great blow to both mamma and me that you should marry so out of your element; and therefore you cannot expect me to be so heart-broken over the mysterious disappearance of your wife as I might have been if you married—­Sadie, for instance.”

“I wish you wouldn’t throw Sadie Farnum at me upon every occasion; I never had any intention of marrying her,” retorted Sir William, with an angry flush.

“More is the pity; I could have loved her dearly as a sister,” responded Lady Linton, in an injured tone.  “But,” she added, after a thoughtful pause, “it seems you were mistaken in thinking that your wife was collecting proofs of her marriage with the intention of coming here to claim her position.  If that had been her plan, doubtless she would have been here long ago.”