“I will do the best I can for you, Sir Lawrence; but I am afraid you will need all your patience. Her ladyship gave me to understand that she should not write to me until she wanted money, and as she is supposed to have her half-year’s allowance with her, that will not be yet.”
“My only hope is that not being accustomed to economize, she will find her income insufficient. She has been accustomed to spend more than she has now upon her dress and charities, and will, I am sure, find it very difficult to make both ends meet now. Excuse me for dwelling on this possibility; but it is my one hope.”
“Then it is not to be wondered you should dwell on it, under the circumstances,” replied Mr. Large. “But may I venture to ask, Sir Lawrence, what your present plans are?”
“Certainly. I shall remain in London, in order that I may be on the spot whenever you have any news for me. But I do not mean any of my friends to know of my whereabouts, and I shall not show myself either at Borton or Milworth until Lady Gwendolyn returns to me. In this way I hope to shield her from remark, and make it easier for her to take up her married life again without awkwardness or pain. We have been abroad for six months—let the world suppose we are still there.”
“I think you are quite right,” Mr. Large said; “and I feel sure that your consideration will touch Lady Gwendolyn when she comes to her senses. You will bring me your letter soon, Sir Lawrence?”
“To-morrow you may count upon it,” he answered; and then, with a polite apology for having taken up so much of the other’s time, Sir Lawrence departed.
The next day he took the letter to Mr. Large’s office, and put it into the worthy lawyer’s own hand. Then he went back to his solitary lodgings, to wait for the moment when his wife should repent of her hasty desertion, and come back to him timidly, humbly, to find such a generous pardon ready for her, that she would never dream of leaving him again.
“I am sorry I came to the seaside now,” said Lady Gwendolyn languidly, to her faithful abigail, one morning; “the wind kept me awake all night.”
“Yes, my lady, it does sound dolesome,” answered Phœbe. “They say there haven’t been such gales for years. A ship was wrecked close to the pier last night, and three poor souls drowned within sight of the coastguard.”