On the preceding evening Mrs. Furnival had told Martha Biggs what was her intention; Or perhaps it would be more just to say that Martha Biggs had worked it out of her. Now that Mrs. Furnival had left the fashionable neighbourhood of Cavendish Square, and located herself in that eastern homely district to which Miss Biggs had been so long accustomed, Miss Biggs had been almost tyrannical. It was not that she was less attentive to her friend, or less willing to slave for her with a view to any possible or impossible result. But the friend of Mrs. Furnival’s bosom could not help feeling her opportunity. Mrs. Furnival had now thrown herself very much upon her friend, and of course the friend now expected unlimited privileges;—as is always the case with friends in such a position. It is very well to have friends to lean upon, but it is not always well to lean upon one’s friends.
“I will be with you before you start in the morning,” said Martha.
“It will not be at all necessary,” said Mrs. Furnival.
“Oh, but I shall indeed. And, Kitty, I should think nothing of going with you, if you would wish it. Indeed I think you should have a female friend alongside of you in such a trouble. You have only to say the word and I’ll go in a minute.”
Mrs. Furnival however did not say the word, and Miss Biggs was obliged to deny herself the pleasure of the journey. But true to her word she came in the morning in ample time to catch Mrs. Furnival before she started, and for half an hour poured out sweet counsel into her friend’s ear. If one’s friends would as a rule refrain from action how much more strongly would real friendship flourish in the world!
“Now, Kitty, I do trust you will persist in seeing her.”
“That’s why I’m going there.”
“Yes; but she might put you off it, if you’re not firm. Of course she’ll deny herself if you send in your name first. What I should do would be this;—to ask to be shown in to her and then follow the servant. When the happiness of a life is at stake—the happinesses of two lives I may say, and perhaps the immortal welfare of one of them in another world—one must not stand too much upon etiquette. You would never forgive yourself if you did. Your object is to save him and to shame her out of her vile conduct. To shame her and frighten her out of it if that be possible. Follow the servant in and don’t give them a moment to think. That’s my advice.”
In answer to all this Mrs. Furnival did not say much, and what little she did say was neither in the affirmative nor in the negative. Martha knew that she was being ill treated, but not on that account did she relax her friendly efforts. The time would soon come, if all things went well, when Mrs. Furnival would be driven by the loneliness of her position to open her heart in a truly loving and confidential manner. Miss Biggs hoped sincerely that her friend and her friend’s husband might be brought together again;—perhaps by her own efforts; but she did not anticipate—or perhaps desire any speedy termination of the present arrangements. It would be well that Mr. Furnival should be punished by a separation of some months. Then, when he had learned to know what it was to have a home without a “presiding genius,” he might, if duly penitent and open in his confession, be forgiven. That was Miss Biggs’s programme, and she thought it probable that Mrs. Furnival might want a good deal of consolation before that day of open confession arrived.
“I shall go with you as far as the station, Kitty,” she said in a very decided voice.
“It will not be at all necessary,” Mrs. Furnival replied.
“Oh, but I shall. You must want support at such a moment as this, and as far as I can give it you shall have it.”
“But it won’t be any support to have you in the cab with me. If you will believe me, I had rather go alone. It is so necessary that I should think about all this.”
But Martha would not believe her; and as for thinking, she was quite ready to take that part of the work herself. “Don’t say another word,” she said, as she thrust herself in at the cab-door after her friend. Mrs. Furnival hardly did say another word, but Martha Biggs said many. She knew that Mrs. Furnival was cross, ill pleased, and not disposed to confidence. But what of that? Her duty as a friend was not altered by Mrs. Furnival’s ill humour. She would persevere, and having in her hands so great an opportunity, did not despair but what the time might come when both Mr. and Mrs. Furnival would with united voices hail her as their preserver. Poor Martha Biggs! She did not mean amiss; but she was troublesome.
It was very necessary that Mrs. Furnival should think over the step which she was taking. What was it that she intended to do when she arrived at Hamworth? That plan of forcing her way into Lady Mason’s house did not recommend itself to her the more in that it was recommended by Martha Biggs. “I suppose you will come up to us this evening?” Martha said, when she left her friend in the railway carriage. “Not this evening, I think. I shall be so tired,” Mrs. Furnival had replied. “Then I shall come down to you,” said Martha, almost holloaing after her friend, as the
