'I think I had better consult Mr. Statham in the matter, Madame Du Tertre, if you have no objection,' said Martin. 'You see I have taken his advice already--and could see more--'
'My good monsieur,' said Pauline impatiently, 'I have no objection to your consulting Mr. Statham, or any one for the matter of that, but do you see that time presses? We are already in the afternoon, and it is this evening that action must be taken. I confess I do not see how Mr. Statham can improve upon my proposition.'
'No,' said Martin, 'I do not know that he could.' His yielding nature was no match for this woman's determination. 'Then the best thing I can do is, I suppose, to get back to London?'
'Yes,' said Pauline, with a smile; 'but I must trouble you to take me with you. I have sent away my cabman, and I must see Mrs. Calverley, and make up some story to account to her for the two or three days during which I must necessarily be absent from her. Ah, Monsieur Martin, what a world of deceit it is!'
'Did you say that you were coming back in my cab, Madame Du Tertre?' said Martin, looking rather blank.
'Yes,' she said with a laugh, 'I must. I have no other means of getting back to town. But don't fear, Monsieur Martin; I will bring no disgrace upon you--you shall set me down as soon as we reach the outskirts of town, and I will go to Great Walpole-street by myself. When you get there you must write me the letter to this poor girl; you can give it to me as I come downstairs after my explanation with Mrs. Calverley.'
When Madame Du Tertre walked into the drawing-room in Great
Walpole-street, she saw from the expression of Mrs. Calverley's face that that sainted woman was considerably out of temper. Mrs. Calverley kept her eyes rigidly fixed on her work, and took no notice of Pauline's entrance.
'Ah, behold a pleasant woman,' muttered the Frenchwoman between her teeth. 'It is well that I have something to look forward to in the future; for the position here is not a particularly pleasant one, and is sufficiently hardly earned.--And how are you this evening, my kind friend?' she said at last, gliding into a chair by Mrs. Calverley's side.
'If you call me your kind friend, I am sorry I cannot return the compliment, Madame Du Tertre,' hissed Mrs. Calverley spitefully. 'I thought the arrangement between us was, that you were to be my companion, and endeavour to cheer me up with some of the liveliness of your nation, at least I know that was suggested by Mr. Calverley when he made the engagement; and instead of that, here I have been left by myself the whole day, without one creature to come and say a word to me.'
'Ah, my kind friend,' said Pauline--'for so you have always proved yourself to me--it is only in a matter of necessity that I would ask to be absent from your side. My poor cousin--she that I spoke about to you--is lying ill at a poor lodging. She has no friend in this wide London, does not know one creature beside myself; she has no money, she cannot speak your language, and is utterly helpless. I am the sole person on whom she can rely. I have been with her all day; it is from my hand alone that she will take her medicine and her drink; and I have come to ask you to excuse me for yet a little while longer, until she has reached the crisis of her malady.'