Part 27 (1/2)

”Nothing,” said Janet, colouring. ”Since he married you we have lived entirely apart. You can believe what I say. I have no love for him, he has none for me. He makes me an allowance, which he has a right to do.

We are not even good friends, and I do not care if I never see him again. I was a vain, foolish girl when I ran away with him, and have bitterly repented it ever since. Mr. Maynard told me my father was anxious for me to return home, and he strongly advised me to do so, until he discovered who Mr. Warren was; then for your sake he bade me keep silent and remain where I am.”

Irene was somewhat relieved at this. From Janet's statement she gathered her husband had been faithful to her since their marriage, and that, to a great extent, condoned his offence towards herself, but she could not forgive him for so cowardly allowing the blame to rest upon Ulick. The contrast between the two came vividly before her. Her husband hiding his wrongs by sacrificing a friend; Ulick Maynard knowingly bearing the blame to s.h.i.+eld her from sorrow and shame. She felt sorely tempted to go to Ulick, fling herself into his arms, and ask him to take her away from it all. She knew he would resist this temptation for her sake, and after a moment's consideration she also knew it was impossible for her to act in such a manner.

”We must keep this interview to ourselves,” said Irene. ”No one must know of my visit, and you must tell Mrs. Hoffman I am a friend, any name will suffice to satisfy her. I am very sorry for you, Janet, and advise you to return to your father.”

”I cannot. Mr. Maynard made me promise not to do so until he gave me permission, and I could not face the people in Helton after what has happened.”

”You will live that down,” said Irene. ”I will take care no one talks about you, as far as I am able, and I can do a good deal to help you.”

”It is very kind of you,” replied Janet, ”and I hope some day to see my father and live with him again. I am not so bad, and I have kept myself respectable since I ran away.”

”I quite believe that,” replied Irene. ”Do you think my husband will call here again?”

”I hardly know; he has posted me money lately. I have no desire to see him,” replied Janet.

”You will oblige me by not seeing him,” said Irene. ”Forbid him the house. If you require money write to me, and I will send it.”

”He might see the letter and recognise my handwriting.”

”That is of no consequence. If he does he will soon learn I have seen you and know everything,” said Irene.

”I will write and tell him I wish him to keep away from the house, and I feel sure he will do as I desire,” said Janet.

Irene remained some time longer, for they had much to talk about. When she was leaving Janet said she would write to her at once if there was anything of importance she thought she ought to know.

When Irene returned to the Walton, her maid told her Warren Courtly had called, and was very angry when he discovered his wife had come up to London without informing him.

”The manager told him you were here,” said Mary. ”I expect he thought he had come to see you.”

”Did you see Mr. Courtly?”

”Yes, and he asked me where you had gone. I told him I did not know, but that I expected you back in the afternoon, and he said he would be here for dinner.”

Irene went to her room, and after dismissing her maid thought over the best course to pursue. Should she tell him of her meeting with Janet, and that she had learned everything, or would it be better to leave him in the dark? What excuse could she give for her journey to London? State she had come to give him a pleasant surprise, and that the Squire would be there in a day or two for the Epsom week. Perhaps that would be the better plan. If he was unreasonably cross and irritable, she might possibly throw out a hint that would startle him and make him more careful.

It was four o'clock, and she did not expect him for dinner before seven, so there was ample time to review the eventful morning she had spent with Janet Todd. This she was doing when her maid knocked at the door and said Mr. Ulick Maynard had called to see her.

Irene did not expect him, his father must have written at once to inform him she had gone to town.

”Where is he?” asked Irene.

”In the reading-room.”

”I will see him in my sitting-room,” she said; and her maid went away to give the necessary instruction.

”I am glad to see you,” said Ulick, as she entered the room. ”It is an unexpected pleasure. I had no idea you were in town until my father wrote me a hurried note.”

She shook hands with him, and as she did so the thought that he knew what her husband had done, and how he had acted, caused her some confusion, at which Ulick wondered.