“But why should she always be at his chambers? I have seen her there twice, Mrs. Orme. I have indeed;—with my own eyes.”
Mrs. Orme would have thought nothing of it if Lady Mason had been seen there every day for a week together, and regarded Mrs. Furnival’s suspicions as an hallucination bordering on insanity. A woman be in love with Mr. Furnival! A very pretty woman endeavour to entice away from his wife the affection of such a man as that! As these ideas passed through Mrs. Orme’s mind she did not perhaps remember that Sir Peregrine, who was more than ten years Mr. Furnival’s senior, had been engaged to marry the same lady. But then she herself loved Sir Peregrine dearly, and she had no such feeling with reference to Mr. Furnival. She however did what was most within her power to do to allay the suffering under which her visitor laboured, and explained to her the position in which Lady Mason was placed. “I do not think she can see you,” she ended by saying, “for she is in very great trouble.”
“To be tried for perjury!” said Mrs. Furnival, out of whose heart all hatred towards Lady Mason was quickly departing. Had she heard that she was to be tried for murder—that she had been convicted for murder—it would have altogether softened her heart towards her supposed enemy. She could forgive her any offence but the one.
“Yes indeed,” said Mrs. Orme, wiping a tear away from her eye as she thought of all the troubles present and to come. “It is the saddest thing. Poor lady! It would almost break your heart if you were to see her. Since first she heard of this, which was before Christmas, she has not had one quiet moment.”
“Poor creature!” said Mrs. Furnival.
“Ah, you would say so, if you knew all. She has had to depend a great deal upon Mr. Furnival for advice, and without that I don’t know what she would do.” This Mrs. Orme said, not wishing to revert to the charge against Lady Mason which had brought Mrs. Furnival down to Hamworth, but still desirous of emancipating her poor friend completely from that charge. “And Sir Peregrine also is very kind to her—very.” This she added; feeling that up to that moment Mrs. Furnival could have heard nothing of the intended marriage, but thinking it probable that she must do so before long. “Indeed anybody would be kind to her who saw her in her suffering. I am sure you would, Mrs. Furnival.”
“Dear, dear!” said Mrs. Furnival who was beginning to entertain almost a kindly feeling towards Mrs. Orme.
“It is such a dreadful position for a lady. Sometimes I think that her mind will fail her before the day comes.”
“But what a very wicked man that other Mr. Mason must be!” said Mrs. Furnival.
That was a view of the matter on which Mrs. Orme could not say much. She disliked that Mr. Mason as much as she could dislike a man whom she had never seen, but it was not open to her now to say that he was very wicked in this matter. “I suppose he thinks the property ought to belong to him,” she answered.
“That was settled years ago,” said Mrs. Furnival. “Horrid, cruel man! But after all I don’t see why she should mind it so much.”
“Oh, Mrs. Furnival!—to stand in a court and be tried.”
“But if one is innocent! For my part, if I knew myself innocent I could brave them all. It is the feeling that one is wrong that cows one.” And Mrs. Furnival thought of the little confession which she would be called upon to make at home.
And then feeling some difficulty as to her last words in such an interview, Mrs. Furnival got up to go. “Perhaps, Mrs. Orme,” she said, “I have been foolish in this.”
“You have been mistaken, Mrs. Furnival. I am sure of that.”
“I begin to think I have. But, Mrs. Orme, will you let me ask you a favour? Perhaps you will not say anything about my coming here. I have been very unhappy; I have indeed; and—” Mrs. Furnival’s handkerchief was now up at her eyes, and Mrs. Orme’s heart was again full of pity. Of course she gave the required promise; and, looking to the character of the woman, we may say that, of course, she kept it.
“Mrs. Furnival! What was she here about?” Peregrine asked of his mother.
“I would rather not tell you, Perry,” said his mother, kissing him; and then there were no more words spoken on the subject.
Mrs. Furnival as she made her journey back to London began to dislike Martha Biggs more and more, and most unjustly attributed to that lady in her thoughts the folly of this journey to Hamworth. The journey to Hamworth had been her own doing, and had the idea originated with Miss Biggs the journey would never have been made. As it was, while she was yet in the train, she came to the strong resolution of returning direct from the London station to her own house in Harley Street. It would be best to cut the knot at once, and thus by a bold stroke of the knife rid herself of the Orange Street rooms and Miss Biggs at the same time. She did drive to Harley Street, and on her arrival at her own door was informed by the astonished Spooner that, “Master was at home—all alone in the dining-room. He was going to dine at home, and seemed very lonely like.” There, as she stood in the hall, there was nothing
