No one, not even her husband, ever heard her mention Mrs. Winslade's name. When, half a year later, Philip and Fanny were married, no word of opposition fell from her lips; but, on the other hand, she resolutely declined to be present at the ceremony. Neither when, later on, Philip offered to find a situation for her eldest son in the counting-house of Mr. Layland did she raise the slightest objection to his doing so. It was as though her life was burdened with the weight of an obligation from which she found it impossible to rid herself.
Finally, it may be said of the "Vicaress" that, if from the date of a certain transaction Mrs. Winslade's name found no mention at her lips, neither did that of her kinsman, the Earl of Beaumaris. One seemed to have passed out of the sphere of her mental retina as absolutely as the other.
Once and once only did Fanny and Denia see each other again after the latter's abrupt departure from Loudwater House.
Late one autumn evening about a year and a half after Fanny's marriage, as she was sitting alone in the drawing-room, she was informed that a lady was waiting in the entrance-hall who wished particularly to see her, but who refused to send in her name. The untimely visitor proved to be none other than Denia Melray, now Mrs. Ferdinand Gascoigne. The two years which had elapsed since Fanny had seen her last had wrought a great change in her appearance, but not for the better. She had fallen away both in face and figure; there were dark half-circles under her eyes; while that expression of mingled candour and ingenuousness which had been one of her greatest charms in days gone by had given place to the anxious careworn look of one whose days and nights were full of trouble.
That Fanny was surprised to see her goes without saying. She did not know then, nor does she to this day, by what means Denia had discovered her address. When greetings were over and they were together in the drawing-room, Mrs. Gascoigne said: "I am here this evening, my dear, on purpose to ask you a very great favour. But where is Mr. Winslade?"
Fanny explained that her husband had gone for a couple of days' shooting to the house of a bachelor friend in the shires.
"So much the better," observed Denia in her old quick way. "Pleased as on many accounts I should have been to see Mr. Winslade again, I am more pleased that he is not here to-night. But your eyes are asking what the favour is that I want you to grant me. It is simply this: I have left my husband, without his knowledge or consent, and I want you to give me shelter till morning."
"You have left your husband!" exclaimed Fanny. "Oh, Mrs. Gascoigne!"
"Yes, I have left him, never to go back," replied Dania with a hard cold glitter in her blue-grey eyes. Then with deft fingers she unfastened a portion of her dress, and baring her left shoulder, exposed to Fanny's shocked gaze a great livid bruise. "That is where he struck me last night with his clenched fist and felled me to the ground. It is not the first occasion by many that he has struck me. But last night was the climax. Then and there I swore an oath to leave him. He did not believe me, but when he gets home from his club at midnight he will not find me there. To-day I have been making certain arrangements which to-morrow will see completed. At ten o'clock my cousin, William Champneys--the son of my late uncle--will call here for me (you see, dear, I have taken the liberty of assuming that you won't turn me into the street), and will take me down into the country to some relatives of my mother, whom I have not seen since I was quite a child."
It is almost needless to state that Mrs. Gascoigne was accorded the shelter she craved.