Mrs. Harper would not hear of Madeline returning to London by night. No, it was a most shocking idea, and not to be entertained. She must remain until the next day at least, “and travel properly,” which meant that Miss Harper herself conducted the heiress to Riverside, and saw her off by the morning express, first class. It was in vain that Madeline protested that such precautions were quite unnecessary. She was anxious to save her fare, and return third; for, even with such wealth as one hundred and eighty pounds, every shilling would be required. But her voice was silenced. Miss Harper carried the day, took her late pupil to the station, gave her into the charge of the guard, and even went so far as to present her with a two-shilling novel, to wile away the journey (an attention that she hoped would bear fruit by-and-by). But Madeline did not need it; her own thoughts were sufficient to absorb her whole attention as she travelled rapidly homeward. She was sensible of some disquieting pangs when she thought of Laurence. Would he be angry when he heard that his wife had once more assumed her maiden name, and pretended that she was still Madeline West?
No, no; he must forgive her, when there was so much at stake. Her hand closed involuntarily on her purse, that precious purse which contained the first payment for the fraud, she had been compelled to practise. About five o’clock that evening Madeline’s quick foot was once more heard ascending the stairs, and with hasty fingers she opened the sitting-room door, and rushed into her husband’s presence. He was up and dressed—(at all but the worst of times he would insist on dragging himself out of bed and dressing)—seated at her table, laboriously doing some copying, with slow and shaky fingers.
It should here be stated, in justice to Mrs. Harper, that she had passed Madeline under the harrow of searching inquiries, and elicited the intelligence that she made her livelihood by law copying, and she was satisfied that it was a respectable employment.
“Ah!” exclaimed the astute dame, “I suppose Mr. Wynne put that bit of work in your way, did he?” Fortunately for her new rôle, Madeline could truthfully reply “No,” for it was not Laurence who had been the means of procuring this employment, such as it was, but Mr. Jessop.
“You will give me your permanent address, Madeline,” said Mrs. Harper, austerely. “That must be thoroughly understood.”
“But you have it already, Mrs. Harper.”
“Have you lodged there long?” she asked, feeling confident that no well-known counsel at the bar could outdo her in crafty questions.
“Fourteen months,” said her pupil, rather shortly.
“Then you must have been pretty comfortable?”
To which Madeline evasively replied that she had been quite happy. (No thanks to Mrs. Kane.)