"I am aware of the fact," said Miss Pewsey dropping into a chair and shaking out her soiled and sodden bridal dress, "but it may be mine before the end of the year. But don't let us quarrel," she went on in a piteous way, "I'm in trouble."
"What is it?" asked Olivia, who could guess.
"Theophilus has left me. Yes! Last night he went away leaving a cold letter behind him which was to be delivered to me at the altar. And it was," wept Miss Pewsey, "that old woman Mrs. Bressy brought the note. It said that Theophilus has left me for ever. And all my friends were there, and I was awaiting the happy hour, then--then"--she broke down sobbing.
Olivia was touched. Miss Pewsey had always been her enemy, yet there was something about the unhappy creature which called for sympathy.
"I am sorry for your trouble," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, in a softer voice.
"No," said Miss Pewsey drying her eyes with a very wet handkerchief, "you can't be, I never liked you, nor you me."
"That is perfectly true, and you turned my aunt against me. All the same I am sorry, and anything I can do shall be done."
Miss Pewsey threw herself on her knees before her enemy, who was thus heaping coals of fire on her head. "Then ask your husband to leave my Theophilus alone," she whispered. "Clarence, who has also gone, wrote to me, and said that Mr. Ainsleigh accused Theophilus of the death of my dearest Sophia."
"What," cried Olivia, "does Mr. Burgh dare. Why he accuses Dr. Forge, himself. Rupert certainly wrote to the detective Mr. Rodgers, but Mr. Burgh has to substantiate his statement."
Miss Pewsey jumped up. "What," she said, much more her own evil self, "did Clarence accuse my Theophilus? It's a lie--a lie. I have kept silence too long--much too long."