“Of course it may be only idle rumor. But they say that she is living under his protection.”
“That is false!” said Hammond.
SCENE IV
THE NOTORIOUS BELLE YORKE
Miss Yorke was out, but the servant, whose dishevelled coiffure indicated that she had been interrupted in the midst of her afternoon toilette, thought that Miss Yorke would be in directly. Would the gentleman like to step in and wait?
The gentleman accepted the invitation, giving his name as Hammond. He found himself in one of those curious apartments characteristic of the suburbs of London, and known as parlors, a word believed to be derived from the French. Like the rooms of state in Buckingham Palace, the parlor does not enter into the daily life of the household, but is reserved for occasions of ceremony, and more particularly, as its name indicates to the learned, for interviews with visitors. The parlor of the notorious Belle Yorke was more old-fashioned in appearance than most rooms of its class. The furniture was veneered in rosewood. There was a round table in the centre, covered with a cloth over which the deadly gift-book and the paralyzing parlor-game were disposed with a carelessness which spoke of greater care. There was a sofa, attired in a chintz dressing-gown. There were two easy-chairs flanking the fireplace, one with arms for the gentleman, and one without for the lady, as in old crinoline days, and there were six little chairs to match, all irresistibly suggestive of one of those ancient tombs on which the father and mother are represented kneeling opposite each other, each with a row of children behind. There was a species of disguised wash-stand, called a chiffonnier, ranged against one side of the room, and a piano against another. The walls were hung with prints, chiefly Scriptural subjects, among which the place of honor was taken by an engraving representing the marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales. It was a scene of primeval simplicity and Nonconformist peace.
Hammond looked about him with a sense of intrusion, as he found himself for the first time in Belle Yorke’s home. It was utterly unlike anything he had expected to find. Belle Yorke lived in that part of Hammersmith which had not yet succeeded in covering itself with flats and calling itself West Kensington. The house outside was small and unpretentious; but so are the outsides of many houses which are gay enough within. Miss Yorke’s appearance on the boards was too recent for her yet to have furnished a miniature palace and set up a brougham on the proceeds of the public favor. But the domestic, old-fashioned air which pervaded the whole place came on Hammond as a surprise and a rebuke.
The servant who had just shown him in asked a question which further opened his eyes.
“Would you like to see Mrs. Yorke, sir?”
Hammond started.
“Is that Miss Yorke’s mother?”