Margaret Vincent: A Novel

by Mrs. W. K. Clifford

"All right," he said, imperturbably. "I am a babe unborn, or a mummy." Then he turned to Margaret: "I have to go now; but I wish I had seen your father, Miss Vincent. Where are you staying?"

"At the Langham Hotel—it's in Regent Street."

"Oh yes, we know; we have been in London for some time, you see," Mr. Farley laughed. He liked this girl; she was fresh and unspoiled, he thought. He had a curious hatred of Lena Lakeman, which had just been intensified by her treatment of Margaret. There were times when he felt that he should like to strangle her, just for the good of the community. He hated her wriggling movements, her low tones, her sugary manner, and the outrageous things she said and did with an air of unconsciousness.

Tom Carringford stood talking with Miss Hunstan before he departed. They appeared to be making some arrangement together, for, as he wished her good-bye he said, "All right, then; I will if I can. Anyhow, may I look in at tea-time to-morrow?"

"You may look in at any time you like," Miss Hunstan said, and then she explained to Margaret: "Mr. Carringford and I are old friends, and always have a great deal to say to each other." She got up when he had gone. "I'm going, too," she said; "but I wish I could stay longer." She held out her hand to Margaret. "I am a stranger to you," she said; "but I should like you to know that I am an American woman, and an actress—who was once a stranger, too, here in London. I hope to stay for some time, and if you come up again and would come and see me, either at the theatre or at my home, I'd be more glad than I can say, for you remind me of a girl I knew in Philadelphia, and she was the sweetest thing on earth."

"I should like it so very much," Margaret said, gratefully.

"Write to me if you can, for I wouldn't like to miss you. Anyway, just remember that I live in Great College Street, Westminster; and you will easily find it, for it's quite near the Abbey. No, thank you, Miss Lakeman, I won't stay for tea. Good-bye."

"I'll walk with you, Louise," Mr. Farley said. "Miss Hunstan is an old friend of mine, too," he told Margaret. "We knew each other in America."

Then, when they were alone, Lena went up to Margaret. "I am glad they are gone," she said. "Now we shall understand each other so much better, and you must tell me"—she stopped to ring the bell—"all about yourself. We ought to know each other, when we remember—" She had been speaking in an intense tone, but the servant entered, and in quite an ordinary one she asked for tea to be brought at once; then turned and immediately resumed the intensity—"when we remember that your father and my mother were lovers."

"Oh, don't say that," Margaret answered, almost vehemently, but with a sweetness of which her listener was uneasily sensible. "It was all finished and done with before we were born. I couldn't bear you to speak of it, nor of my father's opinions, as you did when the others were here; and I can't now, for we have only known each other an hour. There are some things we should only say to those who are nearest to us, and very seldom even then."