'Of course.Government is awfully particular.It mayn't be his fault in the least, but no man is likely to get any big position with a cloud over his domestic affairs.Horace would resign, naturally.'
'Or take long leave,' Mrs.Innes added to herself, but she did not give Madeline this alternative.A line or two of nervous irritation marked themselves about her eyes, and her colour had faded.Her hat was less becoming than it had been, and she had pulled a button off her glove.
'Besides,' she went on quickly, 'it isn't as if you could do any good, you know.The harm was done once for all when I let him think he'd married me.I thought then--well, I had to take it or leave it--and every week I expected to hear of Frederick's death.Then Imeant to tell Horace myself, and have the ceremony over again.He couldn't refuse.And all these years it's been like living on a volcano, in the fear of meeting New York people.Out here there never are any, but in England I dye my hair, and alter my complexion.'
'Why did you change your mind,' Madeline asked, 'about telling Colonel Innes?'
'I haven't! Why should I change my mind? For my own protection, Imean to get things put straight instantly--when the time comes.'
'When the time comes,' Madeline repeated; and her eyes, as she fixed them on Mrs.Innes, were suddenly so lightened with a new idea that she dropped the lids over them as she waited for the answer.
'When poor Frederick does pass away,' Mrs.Innes said, with an air of observing the proprieties.'When they put him in prison it was a matter of months, the doctors said.That was one reason why I went abroad.I couldn't bear to stay there and see him dying by inches, poor fellow.'
'Couldn't you?'
'Oh, I couldn't.And the idea of the hard labour made me SICK.But it seems to have improved his health, and now--there is no telling!
I sometimes believe he will live out his sentence.Should you think that possible in the case of a man with half a lung?'
'I have no knowledge of pulmonary disease,' Madeline said.She forced the words from her lips and carefully looked away, taking this second key to the situation mechanically, and for a moment groping with it.
'What arrangement did you make to be informed about--about him?' she asked, and instantly regretted having gone so perilously near provoking a direct question.
'I subscribe to the "New York World".I used to see lots of things in it--about the shock the news of my death gave him--'
A flash of hysterical amusement shot into Mrs.Innes's eyes, and she questioned Madeline's face to see whether it responded to her humour.Then she put her own features straight behind her handkerchief and went on.
'And about his failing health, and then about his being so much better.But nothing now for ages.'
'Did the "World" tell you,' asked Miss Anderson, with sudden interest, 'that Mr.Prendergast came into a considerable fortune before--about two years ago?'
Mrs.Innes's face turned suddenly blank.'How much?' she exclaimed.
'About five hundred thousand dollars, I believe.Left him by a cousin.Then you didn't know?'
'That must have been Gordon Prendergast--the engineer!' Mrs.Innes said, with excitement.'Fancy that! Leaving money to a relation in Sing Sing! Hadn't altered his will, I suppose.Who could possibly,' and her face fell visibly, 'have foreseen such a thing?'
'No one, I think,' said Madeline, through a little edged smile.'On that point you will hardly be criticized.'
Mrs.Innes, with clasped hands, was sunk in thought.She raised her eyes with a conviction in them which she evidently felt to be pathetic.
'After all,' she said, 'there is something in what the padres say about our reaping the reward of our misdeeds in this world--some of us, anyway.If I had stayed in New York--'
'Yes?' said Madeline.'I shall wake up presently,' she reflected, 'and find that I have been dreaming melodrama.' But that was a fantastic underscoring of her experience.She knew very well she was making it.
Mrs.Innes, again wrapped in astonished contemplation, did not reply.Then she jumped to her feet with a gesture that cast fortunes back into the lap of fate.
'One thing is certain,' she said; 'I can't do anything NOW, can I?'
Madeline laid hold of silence and made armour with it.At all events, she must have time to think.
'I decline to advise you,' she said, and she spoke with a barely perceptive movement of her lips only.The rest of her face was stone.
'How unkind and unforgiving you are! Must people would think the loss of a hundred thousand pounds about punishment enough for what Ihave done.You don't seem to see it.But on top of that you won't refuse to promise not to tell Horace?'
'I will not bind myself in any way whatever.'
'Not even when you know that the moment I hear of the--death Iintend to--to--'
'Make an honest man of him? Not even when I know that.'
'Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?'
Madeline glanced at the flowered fabric involved and said, 'Iwouldn't, I think.'
'And this is to hang over me the whole season? I shall enjoy nothing--absolutely NOTHING.' The blue eyes were suddenly eclipsed by angry tears, which the advent of a servant with cards checked as suddenly.
'Goodbye, then, dear,' cried Mrs.Innes, as if in response to the advancing rustle of skirts in the veranda.'So glad to have found you at home.Dear me, has Trilby made her way up--and I gave such particular orders! Oh, you NAUGHTY dog!'
