‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘What has happened? My dear Mrs. Forster, let me trust you are not ill?’
Madeline clutched nervously at his arm.
‘Hush, not so loud,’ she whispered; then forcing a faint smile to her bloodless lips, she murmured, ‘I am not feeling well, Mr. Serena, but indeed there is no cause for alarm. The rooms are hot, you see, and I have grown a little faint. Pray let me sit for a moment, but take no further notice of this, I beseech you.’
Utterly bewildered as to what it all meant, but feeling instinctively that something wrong had happened, Serena did as he was requested. He led Madeline to an ottoman; she sank down on it with a sigh.
‘Now let me fetch you a glass of wine, or something to take away the faintness,’ he said anxiously; and Madeline bowed her head in silent acquiescence.
The moment he had gone she turned her weary, bewildered eyes upon the gay crowd surrounding her, and gazed again with a sickening sense of shrinking fear towards the spot where the man had stood.
Had her eyes deceived her, had it been some hideous vision conjured up to cast a black shadow upon the happiness which was hers at last? Madeline turned her eyes, hoping, half believing this might be so; but one look gave the death-blow to all her hopes, and made her terror more terrible than it had been before.
Yes, there he stood, the man who had blighted her young life, who had dragged her into the mud, from which, in spite of him, she had arisen. He was changed, certainly, but what changes could disguise him? His hair, once short, was now long and luxuriant, he was clothed in garments of the newest cut, he was talking rapidly, twisting his body into various contortions, for the benefit of the small crowd about him. There was no mistaking those pitiless eyes, that cruel mouth. Yes, it was Belleisle, the man who had cheated her into becoming his mistress, who had made her the decoy of a gambling hell, who had dragged her into the very depths of dishonour and pollution.
She sat for a time concealing her face with her fan, but gazing upon him in a wild fascination; then a terror seized her that the dreadful figure might approach and she would be recognised. The mere possibility sent a cold thrill through all her frame, and she realised for the first time all the evil which one word from the man’s lips could bring upon her head. Serena returned with a glass of wine and a biscuit. She sipped the wine, but put the biscuit from her. Then she turned her white face towards Serena, and whispered eagerly—
‘Mr. Serena, I must go home!’