Part 49 (1/2)

Hullo! What's up? Look! Bulford is w.a.n.ging into Charlie, calling him names as he slashes him across the face with stick and thong, using a fist now,--hobbling after Charlie when Charlie has had enough, trying with his uninjured leg to kick behind Charlie's back,--and tumbling at full length on the damp gra.s.s.

Mr. Kenion took his bleeding face home to be patched; and early this morning he had gone to London--where Mrs. Bulford was waiting for him.

”And, mother, he as good as said that I should never see him again. He confessed that he and Mamie had been very imprudent--and Major Bulford has discovered everything.”

”But, my darling, why do you cry? Why aren't you rejoicing--singing your song of joy?”

”Mother!”

”All this is splendid good news--not bad news.”

”Mother, don't say it.”

”But I do say it. I say, Thank G.o.d--if this is going to give my girl release from her slavery.” Mrs. Marsden had spoken in a tone of exaltation; but now her brows contracted, and her voice became grave.

”Enid, we mustn't run on so fast. To me it seems almost too good to be true.”

”To me it seems dreadful.”

”Yes, at the moment. But later, you will know it is emanc.i.p.ation, _life_. Only, let us keep calm. This man--Bulford--may not intend to divorce her.”

”Oh, he _will_.”

”You think he will wish to cast her off?”

”Yes. Charlie as good as said so.”

”But tell me this--You say they are very rich. Which of them has the money--the husband or the wife?”

”Oh, it is all Mrs. Bulford's--her very own.”

”Ah! The man may not divorce her--but if he does, there is one thing of which you can be absolutely certain. Kenion will stick to her, and give you your freedom.”

It was nearly one o'clock. Mrs. Marsden, glancing at the mantlepiece, started. Her husband would soon return for his substantial mid-day meal.

”Enid dear, I must take you and Jane out to lunch. I know you won't care to meet Richard. Come! I shan't be a minute putting on my bonnet;” and she hurried from the room. ”Eliza! If Mr. Marsden asks for me, tell him I shall not be in to luncheon.... That is all that you need say.”

To avoid the chance of being seen by her husband in High Street, she led Enid and the little girl up the court instead of down it, round the church-yard, and through devious ways to Gordon's, the confectioner's.

Here, at a small table in the back room, she gave them a comfortable and sufficient repast--chicken for Enid, and nice soup and milk pudding for Jane. She herself was unable to eat: excitement had banished all appet.i.te. She cut up toast for the soup, carved the chicken, dusted the pudding with sugar; and smilingly watched over her guests.

But every now and then she frowned, and became lost in deep thought.

Once, after a frowning pause, she leaned across the table and clutched Enid's arm.

”Enid,” she whispered, with intense anxiety, ”is this Bulford really an upright honourable man who will do the right thing, and cast her off; or is he a mean-spirited cur who will support his disgrace for the sake of the cash?”

They remained at the confectioner's until Mrs. Marsden could feel no doubt that her husband was now safe in his saloon; and then she took them back to the house.

She sent Mears a message to say that he and the shop must do without her this afternoon, and she sat for a couple of quiet hours hearing the remainder of Enid's grievous tale. Plainly it did Enid good to talk about her troubles; the longer she talked the calmer she grew; and while stage by stage she traced the history of her unhappy married life, Mrs.

Marsden thought very often of her own experiences.