She knew to a sixpence what payments were coming due. Mortomley did not try to keep from her knowledge of the writs which were served upon him, of the proceedings that were threatened. Had he done so it would have been useless. There was not a servant in the house, a workman in the factory, who did not comprehend the ship was doomed. Some of them, taking time by the forelock, made inquiry concerning suitable situations likely to become vacant, and left before matters came to a crisis.
At first Mortomley and his wife felt this desertion keenly, but as time went on the misery of their own position became too real for any sentimental grievance to prove annoying.
"That summer weaned me from Homewood," Dolly said subsequently to Mrs. Werner. "Once upon a time it would have broken my heart to leave the place; but what we suffered in that dear old house no human being can imagine."
And all the time Mr. Forde was leading Mr. Mortomley that life Rupert had prophesied.
In a dull, stupid sort of way, Mortomley went up doggedly day after day to take his punishment, and it was given.
He wanted to keep Homewood, and he was willing to bear much in order to compass that end. Mr. Forde wanted to keep the Colour Works going, and believed the best way to effect his purpose was never to cease goading and harassing Mr. Mortomley.
At last it all came to an end. One day towards the latter part of August, Mr. Mortomley returned home earlier than usual; complaining of headache, he went to bed before dinner. Ere morning Dolly tapped at Rupert's door, and begged him despatch some one for a doctor.
"It has come," thought Rupert dressing in all haste, "I knew it could not last for ever."
That day, Mr. Forde waited in vain for his victim.
It had become a necessity of his existence to vent the irritation caused by the anxiety of his position on some one, and Mortomley proved the best whipping boy who ever accepted vicarious chastisement.