Hullo! What's up? Look! Bulford is wanging into Charlie, calling him names as he slashes him across the face with stick and thong, using a fist now,—hobbling after Charlie when Charlie has had enough, trying with his uninjured leg to kick behind Charlie's back,—and tumbling at full length on the damp grass.
Mr. Kenion took his bleeding face home to be patched; and early this morning he had gone to London—where Mrs. Bulford was waiting for him.
"And, mother, he as good as said that I should never see him again. He confessed that he and Mamie had been very imprudent—and Major Bulford has discovered everything."
"But, my darling, why do you cry? Why aren't you rejoicing—singing your song of joy?"
"Mother!"
"All this is splendid good news—not bad news."
"Mother, don't say it."
"But I do say it. I say, Thank God—if this is going to give my girl release from her slavery." Mrs. Marsden had spoken in a tone of exaltation; but now her brows contracted, and her voice became grave. "Enid, we mustn't run on so fast. To me it seems almost too good to be true."
"To me it seems dreadful."
"Yes, at the moment. But later, you will know it is emancipation, life. Only, let us keep calm. This man—Bulford—may not intend to divorce her."