treated the poor creature
harshly. When I hear of Romayne and his
Retreat, I almost feel inclined to spit, myself. There! let us go
on with your
reading. Take the first
volume--I have done with
it."
"What is it, mama?"
"A very
remarkable work, Stella, in the present state of light
literature in England--a novel that
actually tells a story. It's
quite
incredible, I know. Try the book. It has another
extraordinary merit--it isn't written by a woman."
Stella obediently received the first
volume, turned over the
leaves, and
wearily dropped the wonderful novel on her lap. "I
can't attend to it," she said. "My mind is too full of my own
thoughts."
"About Romayne?" said her mother.
"No. When I think of my husband now, I almost wish I had his
confidence in Priests and Retreats. The
conviction grows on me,
mama, that my worst troubles are still to come. When I was
younger, I don't remember being tormented by presentiments of any
kind. Did I ever talk of presentiments to you, in the bygone
days?"
"If you had done anything of the sort, my love (excuse me, if I
speak plainly), I should have said, 'Stella, your liver is out of
order'; and I should have opened the family medicine-chest. I
will only say now send for the
carriage; let us go to a morning
concert, dine at a
restaurant, and finish the evening at the
play."
This
characteristic proposal was entirely thrown away on Stella.
She was absorbed in pursuing her own train of thought. "I almost
wish I had told Lewis," she said to herself absently.
"Told him of what, my dear?"
"Of what happened to me with Winterfield."
Mrs. Eyrecourt's faded eyes opened wide in astonishment.
"Do you really mean it?" she asked.
"I do, indeed."
"Are you
actually simple enough, Stella, to think that a man of
Romayne's
temper would have made you his wife if you had told him
of the Brussels marriage?"
"Why not?"
"Why not! Would Romayne--would any man--believe that you really
did part from Winterfield at the church door? Considering that
you are a married woman, your
innocence, my sweet child, is a
perfect phenomenon! It's well there were wiser people than you to
keep your secret."
"Don't speak too
positively, mama. Lewis may find it out yet."
"Is that one of your presentiments?"
"Yes."
"How is he to find it out, if you please?"
"I am afraid, through Father Benwell. Yes! yes! I know you only
think him a fawning old hypocrite--you don't fear him as I do.
Nothing will
persuade me that zeal for his religion is the
motiveunder which that man acts in devoting himself to Romayne. He has
some
abominable object in view, and his eyes tell me that I am
concerned in it."
Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out laughing.
"What is there to laugh at?" Stella asked.
"I declare, my dear, there is something
absolutely provoking in
your utter want of knowledge of the world! When you are puzzled
to
account for anything
remarkable in a clergyman's conduct (I
don't care, my poor child, to what
denomination he belongs) you
can't be wrong in attributing his
motive to--Money. If Romayne
had turned Baptist or Methodist, the
reverend gentleman in charge
of his
spiritualwelfare would not have forgotten--as you have
forgotten, you little goose--that his
convert was a rich man. His
mind would have dwelt on the
chapel, or the
mission, or the
infant school, in want of funds; and--with no more
abominableobject in view than I have, at this moment, in poking the
fire--he would have ended in producing his
modest subscription
list and would have
betrayed himself (just as our
odious Benwell
will
betray himself) by the two
amiable little words, Please
contribute. Is there any other presentiment, my dear, on which
you would like to have your mother's candid opinion?"