“Well I never!” said Martha, as she listened to Rachel’s story.
“And they’re quite loving I can assure you,” said Rachel.
“It’ll never last,” said Miss Biggs triumphantly—“never. It’s been done too sudden to last.”
“So I’ll say good night if you please, Miss Biggs,” said Rachel, who was in a hurry to get back to Harley Street.
“I think she might have come here before she went there; especially as it wasn’t anything out of her way. She couldn’t have gone shorter than Bloomsbury Square, and Russell Square, and over Tottenham Court Road.”
“Missus didn’t think of that, I dare say.”
“She used to know the way about these parts well enough. But give her my love, Rachel.” Then Martha Biggs was again alone, and she sighed deeply.
It was well that Mrs. Furnival came back so quickly to her own house, as it saved the scandal of any domestic quarrel before her daughter. On the following day Sophia returned, and as harmony was at that time reigning in Harley Street, there was no necessity that she should be presumed to know anything of what had occurred. That she did know—know exactly what her mother had done, and why she had done it, and how she had come back, leaving Martha Biggs dumbfounded by her return, is very probable, for Sophia Furnival was a clever girl, and one who professed to understand the ins and outs of her own family—and perhaps of some other families. But she behaved very prettily to her papa and mamma on the occasion, never dropping a word which could lead either of them to suppose that she had interrogated Rachel, been confidential with the housemaid, conversed on the subject—even with Spooner, and made a morning call on Martha Biggs herself.
There arose not unnaturally some conversation between the mother and daughter as to Lady Mason;—not as to Lady Mason’s visits to Lincoln’s Inn and their impropriety as formerly presumed;—not at all as to that; but in respect to her present lamentable position and that engagement which had for a time existed between her and Sir Peregrine Orme. On this latter subject Mrs. Furnival had of course heard nothing during her interview with Mrs. Orme at Noningsby. At that time Lady Mason had formed the sole subject of conversation; but in explaining to Mrs. Furnival that there certainly could be no unhallowed feeling between her husband and the lady, Mrs. Orme had not thought it necessary to allude to Sir Peregrine’s past intentions. Mrs. Furnival, however, had heard the whole matter discussed in the railway carriage, had since interrogated her husband—learning, however, not very much from him—and now inquired into all the details from her daughter.
“And she and Sir Peregrine were really to be married?” Mrs. Furnival, as she asked the question, thought with confusion of her own unjust accusations against the poor woman. Under such circumstances as those Lady Mason must of course have been innocent as touching Mr. Furnival.
“Yes,” said Sophia. “There is no doubt whatsoever that they were engaged. Sir Peregrine told Lady Staveley so himself.”
“And now it’s all broken off again?”
“Oh yes; it is all broken off now. I believe the fact to be this. Lord Alston, who lives near Noningsby, is a very old friend of Sir Peregrine’s. When he heard of it he went to The Cleeve—I know that for certain;—and I think he talked Sir Peregrine out of it.”
“But, my conscience, Sophia—after he had made her the offer!”
“I fancy that Mrs. Orme arranged it all. Whether Lord Alston saw her or not I don’t know. My belief is that Lady Mason behaved very well all through, though they say very bitter things against her at Noningsby.”
“Poor thing!” said Mrs. Furnival, the feelings of whose heart were quite changed as regarded Lady Mason.
“I never knew a woman so badly treated.” Sophia had her own reasons for wishing to make the best of Lady Mason’s case. “And for myself I do not see why Sir Peregrine should not have married her if he pleased.”
“He is rather old, my dear.”
“People don’t think so much about that nowadays as they used. If he liked it, and she too, who had a right to say anything? My idea is that a man with any spirit would have turned Lord Alston out of the house. What business had he to interfere?”
“But about the trial, Sophia?”
“That will go on. There’s no doubt about that. But they all say that it’s the most unjust thing in the world, and that she must be proved innocent. I heard the judge say so myself.”
“But why are they allowed to try her then?”
“Oh, papa will tell you that.”
“I never like to bother your papa about law business.” Particularly not, Mrs. Furnival, when he has a pretty woman for his client!
“My wonder is that she should make herself so unhappy about it,” continued Sophia. “It seems that she is quite broken down.”
“But won’t she have to go and sit in the court—with all the people staring at her?”
“That won’t kill her,” said Sophia, who felt that she herself would not perish under any such process. “If I was sure that I was in the right, I think that I could hold up my head against all that. But they say that she is crushed to the earth.”
“Poor thing!” said Mrs. Furnival. “I wish that I could do anything for her.” And in this way they talked the matter over very comfortably.
Two or three days after this Sophia Furnival was sitting alone in the drawing-room in Harley Street, when Spooner answered a double knock at the door, and Lucius Mason was shown
