Virginia considered. "Do you think he will see you? It might be very painful for him. Have you heard nothing of him since your marriage?"
"Nothing. He lives in the country now, it seems. He must have inherited the place that belonged to his old great-aunts. He always used to tell me that there was not much chance of his coming into it. He was a fine fellow in his way, only difficult—so jealous, for one thing. However, it would be most interesting to meet him. I wonder"—coquettishly—"if he will know me again. I don't fancy that I have changed much."
"Very little, I should think," said Virgie; "the miniature that father had done of you the first year you were married is still just like you."
Mrs. Mynors smiled brightly. She was beginning to recover her good humour. "Unless he has altered strangely, he will not be cruel to the widow and the fatherless," she murmured pensively. "Cheer up, Virgie, all is not yet lost. Try to be a little hopeful, dear child."
Virginia sat, twisting her hands together, turning the matter over in her mind. Her mother's creditor was her mother's old lover. Her mother was going to seize this fact, and make the most of it. Something in Virginia revolted from the idea; but she could not urge her objections. She fixed her purple-grey eyes upon the gay face in the mirror. It might have been that of a woman without a care. Every instinct in her mother was kindled at the idea of once more encountering, and most probably conquering, what had been hers once, and would turn to her again.
A step-father! That was an idea to make one wince. With all the ingrained fidelity of her simple nature, the girl hated the thought. Yet, after all, what was the alternative?
She felt that the family fortunes had passed beyond her own power to adjust or alter. As long as a foothold of dry ground remained she had, as it were, protected these dear ones from the raging flood. Now that the tide had swept them away, and they were all tossing on the waters, could she object to her mother's seizing a rope—any rope—that might be flung to them?
"I suppose he knows," she said, after a long pause, "he knows that it is you?"
"I suppose so. These coincidences are very curious. I have never seen him, never even heard of him, since our rupture." She reflected, her chin on her hand. "Strange that he should have inherited money," she observed. "He was not at all well off when I knew him, though he was very ambitious. He wrote—essays and so on for the Press. He was certainly clever. Twenty-two years since I last saw him! How strange it seems! I used to be afraid at first that he might try to kill me or your father. He was so violent. At our wedding we had special police arrangements. But nothing happened. Nothing at all." She spoke as if the fact were slightly disappointing.
"It is a chance," sighed out Virginia at length. "If you can bear it, mother—if it is not asking too much of you to go and beg a favour from a man you once treated badly, then I think you had better try."