And at last she felt herself urged to a course which, in her ordinary mind, she would have shrunk from as a lowering of her personal dignity: she would go and see her rival, and insist that this particular humiliation should be spared her. The ring was not Leander's to dispose of—at least, to dispose of thus; it was not right that any but herself should wear it; and, though the token could never now be devoted to its rightful use, she wanted to save it from what, in her eyes, was a kind of profanation.
She would not own it to herself, but there was a motive stronger than all this—the desire to relieve her breast of some of the indignation which was choking her, and of which her pride forbade any betrayal to Leander himself.
This other woman had supplanted her; but she should be made to feel the wrong she had done, and her triumphs should be tempered with shame, if she were capable of such a sensation. Matilda knew very well that the ring was not hers, and she wanted it no longer; but, then, it was Miss Tweddle's, and she would claim it in her name.
She easily obtained permission to leave somewhat earlier that evening, as she did not often ask such favours, and soon found herself at Madame Chenille's establishment, where she remembered to have heard from Bella that her sister was employed.
She asked for the forewoman, and begged to be allowed to speak to Miss Parkinson in private for a very few minutes; but the forewoman referred her to the proprietress, who made objections: such a thing was never permitted during business hours, the shop would close in an hour, till then Miss Parkinson was engaged in the showroom, and so on.
But Matilda carried her point at last, and was shown to a room in the basement, where the assistants took their meals, there to wait until Miss Parkinson could be spared from her duties.
Matilda waited in the low, dingy room, where the tea-things were still littering the table, and as she paced restlessly about, trying to feel an interest in the long-discarded fashion-plates which adorned the walls, her anger began to cool, and give place to something very like nervousness.
She wished she had not come. What, after all, was she to say to this girl when they met? And what was Leander—base and unworthy as he had shown himself—to her any longer? Why should she care what he chose to do with the ring? And he would be told of her visit, and think——No! that was intolerable: she would not gratify his vanity and humble herself in this way. She would slip quietly out, and leave her rival to enjoy her victory!
But, just as she was going to carry out this intention, the door opened, and a short, dark young woman appeared. "I'm told there was a young person asking to speak to me," she said; "I'm Ada Parkinson."
At the name, Matilda's heart swelled again with the sense of her injuries; and yet she was unprepared for the face that met her eyes. Surely her rival had both looked and spoken differently the night before? And yet, she had been so agitated that very likely her recollections were not to be depended upon.