Mr. West had enjoyed his dinner; his appetite was excellent—on a par with his daughter’s spirits. He asked no more troublesome questions, and departed to bed at an early hour. Mrs. Leach, too, had retired (pleading fatigue), to enjoy a French novel and cocaine, leaving Madeline to sing and make merry alone! After a while she went over and sat on the fender-stool, and had a long conversation with herself, and tried to persuade her conscience that she had done right. She offered it a sop in assuring herself that the next morning she would go down to the Holt farm and see Harry, and have a comfortable talk with his nurse. Her father would not be out of bed till twelve o’clock. Mrs. Leach, too, rarely appeared before lunch. The coast would be clear. She carried out this resolution to the letter, starting from Waterloo by an early train, arriving a little after ten at the farm in the station fly, greatly to Mrs. Holt’s amazement.
She asked many questions, and was warmly assured that “though little Harry was not to say a big, strong boy, like Tom the ploughman’s child, of the same age, yet that nothing ailed him but his teeth, and that his eye teeth were through, and that she (his mother) need not give herself no uneasiness. Mr. Wynne was full of fancies. He was down twice last week, and had been alarming her for nothing.”
“Mr. Wynne—Mr. Wynne,” said Madeline, becoming agitated and feeling a certain tightness in her throat; but knowing that the fact she was about to disclose must come out sooner or later, and that the first blow was half the battle; “Mr. Wynne and I have had a serious disagreement. We have agreed to differ—and to part,” looking steadily out of the window, whilst her face took a delicate shade of red.
“Laws! gracious mercy!” ejaculated her listener, nearly dropping Master Wynne. “You don’t say so! Goodness gracious! you don’t mean it, ma’am; you are joking.”
“No, indeed”—very decidedly—“I am not, Mrs. Holt; and you need not call me ma’am any more, for though I am married, I am going back to be Miss West—always. Please never call me Mrs. Wynne again.”
“But you can’t do that,” exclaimed Mrs. Holt, in a loud tone of expostulation; “you are married right and tight as I am, unless,” lowering her voice, “it’s a divorce you are after getting?”
“Divorce? No. Nothing of the kind; but Mr. Wynne and I have agreed to be—be strangers, and to forget that we have ever been married; and as I am only known to most people as Miss West, it will be quite easy.”
“It’s nothing of the sort, ma’am,” cried the other, energetically, “and you are mad to think of it. Why, I might just as well go and call myself Kate Fisher once more, and give out I was never wed to Holt! That would be a fine how-do-you-do! And where there’s children it’s worse and more wicked, and more ridiculous to think of still. What’s to be said and done about this boy? Who is his mother? You can’t say Miss West, now can you? Believe me,” seeing her visitor’s face of crimson astonishment, “it won’t do. It’s just one of those common squabbles among married folks that blow over. Why, Holt and I has ’ad many a tiff, and we are none the worse. You and Mr. Wynne just make it up. You are both young, and maybe he is determined, and likes to have his own way, as most men do; but—excuse me, ma’am, as an humble friend and a much older woman than yourself, if I make too bold—you are a bit trying. You see it’s not usual for a young fellow to have his wife leave him, and go galavanting about as a single lady; and then Mr. Wynne is greatly set upon the child. A man, of course, expects that his wife will look after his children herself. Excuse me again if I make too free, but I don’t like to see a young girl going astray, whoever she be, without just giving her a word,” wiping her face with a red-spotted handkerchief. (The family was largely supplied with this favourite pattern.)
Madeline sat in silence, feeling very uncomfortable and wretched; but all the same, obstinately bent on her own way.
“Mrs. Holt, you forget there are two sides to a question,” she said at last. “I know you mean very kindly; but I have to consider my father. He has no one but me. He is an invalid, and I am his only child, and must study his wishes.”