ust have been enough to enrage any
man, if uttered in cold blood, and with knowledge of his presence. But
I did not know him, and I was stupefied by what he had given me, so
that I hardly was aware of what I said. Well--the veil of that temple
is rent in twain!...As I am not going to be seen again in Hintock, my
first efforts must be directed to allay any alarm that may be felt at
my absence, before I am able to get clear away. Nobody must suspect
that I have been hurt, or there will be a country talk about me.
Felice, I must at once concoct a letter to check all search for me. I
think if you can bring me a pen and paper I may be able to do it now.
I could rest better if it were done. Poor thing! how I tire her with
running up and down!"

She fetched writing materials, and held up the blotting-book as a
support to his hand, while he penned a brief note to his nominal wife.

"The animosity shown towards me by your father," he wrote, in this
coldest of marital epistles, "is such that I cannot return again to a
roof which is his, even though it shelters you. A parting is
unavoidable, as you are sure to be on his side in this division. I am
starting on a journey which will take me a long way from Hintock, and
you must not expect to see me there again for some time."

He then gave her a few directions bearing upon his professional
engagements and other practical matters, concluding without a hint of
his destination, or a notion of when she would see him again. He
offered to read the note to Felice before he closed it up, but she
would not hear or see it; that side of his obligations distressed her
beyond endurance. She turned away from Fitzpiers, and sobbed bitterly.

"If you can get this posted at a place some miles away," he whispered,
exhausted by the effort of writing--"at Shottsford or Port-Bredy, or
still better, Budmouth--it will divert all suspicion from this house as
the place of my refuge."

"I will drive to one or other of the places myself--anything to keep it
unknown," she murmured, her voice weighted with vague foreboding, now
that the excitement of helping him had passed away.

Fitzpiers told her that there was yet one thing more to be done. "In
creeping over the fence on to the lawn," he said, "I made the rail
bloody, and it shows rather much on the white paint--I could see it in
the dark. At all hazards it should be washed off. Could you do that
also, Felice?"

What will not women do on such