“In my opinion, if Medora would speak, he’d listen. It ought, however, to be done by stealth. Neither one nor the other must know they’re going to meet. Then it would surprise them both, and Medora might get round him.”
“There’s no danger in it for Medora, you reckon?”
“None; I’ve heard him on the subject. He may dress her down and tell her a bit of the truth about her conduct, and he may use some very harsh words to her; but more he would not do, and if she took it in a humble spirit, I dare say she’d come out top and get him to drop the damages when he divorces her.”
Mrs. Trivett considered.
“I don’t see any harm could come of it, even if no good did,” she replied, after a pause. “I’ll sound Medora. She’d be glad to do Kellock a turn, naturally.”
“I hope she still feels confident about Kellock. I can’t say she spoke with great warmth about the man last time I met her; but that was a passing cloud, I expect. He’s going to give a lecture, and set the world right, at Totnes, presently, he tells me. I’ve promised to be there.”
When some hours later, Mrs. Trivett started to take tea with her daughter, Medora met her by the river, and revealed a restless and melancholy mood.
Lydia sighed, and walked beside her.
“Well, what’s the best news with you, my dear?” she asked.
“There’s no best,” she answered. “We’re just waiting, and I’m ageing and growing into a fright before my time.”