But the dejected accents were lost in the old woman’s voice,—‘Now, sir, if you know him or his family, I wouldn’t be wishing to do him no hinjury, nor to ruinate his prospects, being, as he says, that the rich lady will make him her hare; but, sir, if you have any power with him as a godly minister or the friend of his youth maybe—’
‘He is only waiting till he has a curacy—a house of his own—mother!’
‘No, Edna, hold your peace. It is not fit that I should see my only child cut down as the grass of the field, and left a burthen upon me, a lone woman, while he is eating of the fat of the land. I say it is scandalous that he should leave her here, and take no notice; not coming near her since one hour at Christmas, and only just sending her a few pounds now and then; not once coming to see his own child!’
‘He could not; he is abroad!’ pleaded Edna.
‘He tells you he is abroad!’ exclaimed Robert.
‘He went to Paris at Easter. He promised to come when he comes home.’
‘You poor thing!’ burst out Robert. ‘He is deceiving you! He came back at the end of three weeks. I heard from my sister that she saw him on Sunday.’
Robert heartily rued his abruptness, as the poor young wife sank back in a deadly swoon. The grandmother hurried to apply remedies, insisting that the gentleman should not go, and continuing all the time her version of her daughter’s wrongs. Her last remnant of patience had vanished on learning this deception, and she only wanted to publish her daughter’s claims, proceeding to establish them by hastening in search of the marriage certificate as soon as Edna had begun to revive, but sooner than Robert was satisfied to be left alone with the inanimate, helpless form on the couch.
He was startled when Edna raised her hand, and strove to speak,—‘Sir, do not tell—do not tell my mother where he is. She must not fret him—she must not tell his friends—he would be angry.’
She ceased as her mother returned with the certificate of the marriage, contracted last July before the registrar of the huge suburban Union to which Wrapworth belonged, the centre of which was so remote, that the pseudo-banns of Owen Charteris Sandbrook and Edna Murrell had attracted no attention.