Pauline smiled grimly. 'I thought so,' she exclaimed. 'It will not suit the Reverend Martin Gurwood, rigid moralist, the most holy of men, to have it known, even by his mother, that he has been to visit a pretty woman, and that his conversation with her has been of such effect that she has cast herself at his feet during her husband's absence, and that he has been enabled to give her consolation in her deepest sorrow.'
'If your taunt fell upon me, and upon me alone,' said Martin, drawing himself up, and looking straight at her, 'it would be harmless enough, but I have others to think of, and others to shield. If you knew who the lady is of whom you are speaking in this thoughtless manner, you would--'
'I know well enough,' said Pauline, with a sneer; 'this woman--this friend of yours, is the wife of Mr. Claxton, the partner of your mother's husband, whom you have just buried.'
'You think so,' cried Martin. 'She thinks so herself; but it is for me to undeceive you, though I have kept the truth from her. This woman is one whom Mr. Calverley most basely deceived. Under a false name--the name which you have mentioned--he wooed and won her; and she, at this moment, believes herself to be his widow.'
[CHAPTER VII.]
A THIRD IN THE PLOT.
Even Pauline's stoical calmness was not proof against the announcement which she had just heard from Martin Gurwood. She staggered back, staring wildly at him, and putting her hand to her head as though doubting the evidence of her senses. Martin, thinking she as about to fall, proffered his arm, but she put it aside gently.
'Thank you,' she said; 'I shall be very well presently; the shock was a little too much for me. To have one's faith in such a man's character rudely shaken, is-- But I will not add to your distress, Monsieur Martin, by any observations of mine. You are going this way? Then let us walk together. After a little reflection, I shall be better able to comprehend the full nature of the disclosure you have been good enough to make to me.'
Martin bowed. And they set off walking towards the village, both silent and buried in their own thoughts.
Pauline had indeed need for a little quiet, in which she might turn over in her mind the news which she had just heard, and calculate its bearing on her future. Mr. Calverley, under the assumed name of Claxton, was living with this woman at Hendon; and of course was in the habit of visiting her, when he pretended that he was away on business, inspecting the ironworks in the North. Pauline saw that at once, and half smiled as she allowed to herself that Mrs. Calverley's hatred of the Swartmoor ironworks was not without cause. And as for the reverend's story that the woman had been betrayed by a false marriage--bah! that was to be taken for what it was worth.