“You see, ma’am,” she continued, “you are, and you are not, the child’s mother. He does not recognize you as that—I mean the child himself—you have kept away too long. In course you can’t be in two places at once, nor be both Miss West and Mrs. Wynne. ’Tisn’t my wish, nor my own doing, as I have taken your place with the child. He is main fond of me. And then, poor Mr. Wynne, he felt your leaving him at first, no doubt of that; but he is getting over it now; men haven’t as much feeling as we think.”
Madeline listened with a guilty conscience, every word went home to her with as much force as a blow. She had chosen her line, and she must stick to single blessedness. There was to be no going back, at any rate at present.
This conviction made her reckless, and she rushed with eagerness into the full tide of London gaiety with a passionate desire to escape from the past, to get away from the clamouring of a still articulate conscience, to annihilate memory by some great and effective action, and to be happy! But memory was not so easily stifled, and now that Laurence had disappeared from her life—such is the contrariness of humanity—she wished him back. At times, at races, at Hurlingham, in great assemblies, at the theatre, or in the Row, she searched the crowds for him in vain. Mrs. Leach, who was her constant companion and self-elected chaperon, reading her young friend by the light of her own memories, noticed that she was not like other girls, content and happy with her company and surroundings. There was a restlessness in her manner; she seemed to be continually looking for some one—some one who never came, who was never to be seen.
Madeline preferred Lady Rachel’s, or Mrs. Lorimer’s company to the splendid widow’s society, and made futile efforts to shake off her shackles—efforts which were vain.
Yes, among all Madeline’s social successes, in the midst of her most dazzling triumphs, she ever cast a glance around in search of Laurence. Surely, if he went to see her in the full blaze of her triumph, he would think twice ere he permanently renounced such a treasure! She felt hot and angry when she thought of him, but nevertheless she longed to see him once more—odious, unreasonable, and tyrannical as he was. Surely he did not mean to abandon her in reality. That idea had no place in her mind when she was abroad. There everything and everybody seemed different. It was easy, in a strange country, far away from Laurence and Harry, to drop a misty cloud over the past, and to feel as if she really was Miss West. But here in London, where she had lived as a married woman, and had struggled—and oh, what a struggle!—with the awful question of how to support a household on nothing, the idea was unnatural—nay, it went further, it was improper. She would perhaps write to him some day, and hold out the olive branch; but not yet, and meanwhile she must see him.
Mr. West was still extremely uneasy about himself. He found the heat, and dust, and noise of London trying to his health, he declared; and, much to the disgust of Mrs. Leach and other interested friends, he announced that the middle of July would not find him in England. He was going to Carlsbad, to Switzerland, and to winter abroad—probably at Biarritz.
Ere she was thus carried off, Madeline resolved to see Laurence. She prevailed upon Lady Rachel to take her to the Temple church. She was aware that he went there every Sunday, and Lady Rachel, little guessing the reason of her friend’s sudden enthusiasm for the venerable edifice, and anxiety to hear a certain well-known preacher, procured two tickets for benchers’ seats, and occupied them the ensuing sabbath.
These seats were roomy and elevated, and commanded an excellent view of the whole centre of the church where the members of the various inns sat. They came in gradually, not in legal garb, as Madeline had half expected, but in their usual dress; and she strained her eyes so eagerly that her sharp little friend nudged her and said, “For whom are you looking, Maddie?”
“Oh, no one,” colouring. “It is such a very interesting old place. I like staring about. What crowds of people who cannot get seats, and have to stand!”
At this juncture the organ pealed out, and every one stood up as the choir filed in, and just immediately afterwards, Lady Rachel exclaimed in an excited whisper, “There’s Mr. Wynne—look!”