Mrs Irving had died without writing one word to the Baroness; and
that personage was in a state of constant excitement until she heard
of the rector's plans for rest and travel. Mrs Stuart informed her
of the conversation which had taken place between herself and her
son; and of his evident distress of mind, which had reacted on his
body and made it necessary for him to give up mental work for a
season.
"I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude, dear Baroness," Mrs
Stuart had said. "Sad as this condition of things is, imagine how
much worse it would be, had my son, through an excess of sympathy for
that girl at this time, compromised himself with her before we
learned the terrible truth regarding her birth. I feel sure my son
will regain his health after a few months' absence, and that he will
not jeopardise my happiness and his future by any further thoughts of
this unfortunate girl, who in the meantime may not be here when we
return."
The Baroness made a mental resolve that the girl should not be there.
While the rector's illness and proposed absence was sufficient
evidence that he had resolved upon sacrificing his love for Joy on
the altar of duty to his mother and his calling, yet the Baroness
felt that danger lurked in the air while Miss Irving occupied her
present position. No sooner had Mrs Stuart and her son left the
city, than the Baroness sent an anonymous letter to the young
organist. It read:
"I do not know whether your mother imparted the secret of her past
life to you before she died, but as that secret is known to several
people, it seems cruelly unjust that you are kept in ignorance of it.
You are not Mr Irving's child. You were born before your mother
married. While it is not your fault, only your misfortune, it would
be wise for you to go where the facts are not so well known as in the
congregation of St Blank's. There are people in that congregation
who consider you guilty of a wilful deception in wearing the name you
do, and of an affront to good taste in accepting the position you
occupy. Many people talk of leaving the church on your account.
Your gifts as a musician would win you a position elsewhere, and as I
learn that your mother's life was insured for a considerable sum, I
am sure you are able to seek new fields where you can bide your
disgrace.
"A WELL-WISHER."