And so she would be utterly homeless now.
Homeless, and in London—and she so young, so tender, and beautiful!
Alas! more evils than ever the fatal Black Hound of Essilmont forebode might be in store for his Alison now.
CHAPTER XXI.
CONCLUSION.
So she was out in the world once more, with apparently no earthly tie to bind her to it.
'Could I but see Bevil's face once more and then die!' was her thought, as, blinded with the hot tears that flowed under her veil, she was driven through the sunny and crowded streets of pleasant Bayswater.
We have said that the vicar of Chilcote was now in town; he had brought his family with him, and was residing in private apartments not far from Pembridge Square, and overlooking Kensington Gardens. Thus Alison's first thoughts—indeed her only resource—was to throw herself upon him as she had before intended; but now she was terrified that, if he naturally made inquiries of Mrs. De Jobbyns, in the spirit of sourness or malevolence she might give a very distorted account of the late episode; and, indeed, the worthy old man was greatly disturbed when she told him her simple tale, as the same ideas occurred to himself, and he saw all the peril of giving the name of that irate matron as a reference to anyone else; and thus for two entire days he remained in sore perplexity what to do.
On the third he began again to question Alison, whom he kept with his family.
'And the portrait which caused this grotesque disturbance—the portrait of this gentleman is that of your fiancé?' he asked.