"I do not think she would attempt that."

"She threatened you?"

"With vitriol. She said that she would blind me so that I could not see you--scar me so that you would not care to look upon my face. Ought I to have told you? Alan, do not look so pale! It was a mere foolish threat."

"I am not so sure of that. She is capable of it--or of any other fiendish act. If she injured you, Lettice----"

"Don't think of that. You say you will go to Mr. Larmer this afternoon."

"Yes. And then I will look out for lodgings. And you--what will you do?

Stay here?"

She shook her head. "I shall go into lodgings too. I have plenty of work, and you--you will come to see me sometimes."

"As often as you will let me. Oh, Lettice, it is a hard piece of work that you have given me to do!"

She took his hand in hers and pressed it softly. "I shall be grateful to you for doing it," she said. There was a long silence. Alan stood by the fire-place, his head resting upon his hand. Finally he spoke in a low uncertain tone--

"There is one point I must mention. I think there may be a difficulty in getting the divorce. I believe she claims that I condoned her--her faults. I may find insuperable obstacles in my way."

Lettice drew a quick breath, and rose suddenly to her feet.

"We have nothing to do with that just now, Alan. You must try."

And then they said no more.

But when the afternoon came and Alan was ready to depart--for when once he had made up his mind that he must go, he thought it better not to linger--he drew Lettice inside her little study again, and looked her full in the face.

"Lettice, before I go, will you kiss me once?"

She did not hesitate. She lifted her face, calmly and seriously, and kissed him on the mouth.

But she was not prepared for the grip in which he seized her, and the pa.s.sionate pressure of her lips which he returned. "Lettice, my dearest, my own love," he said, holding her close to him as he spoke, "suppose I fail! If the law will not set me free, what will you do?"

She was silent for a minute or two, and he saw that her face grew pale.

"Oh," she said at last, in a sighing voice, broken at last by a despairing sob, "if man's law is so hard, Alan, surely then we may trust ourselves to G.o.d's!"

"Promise me," he said, "that you will never give me up--that, whatever happens, you will one day be mine!"

"Whatever happens," she answered, "I am yours, Alan, in life or death--in time and for eternity."

And with this a.s.surance he was fain to be content.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

SYDNEY PAYS HIS DEBTS.

The fight which Sydney Campion had had to wage with his creditors was bitter enough up to the time of his marriage. Then there had been a lull for a few months, during which it was confidently said and believed that he was about to touch a large sum of money, and that all who had put their trust in him would be rewarded.

Month after month went by, and there was no realization of the prospect.

Sydney touched no money but what he earned. He might, no doubt, have touched some of his wife's money, even for the payment of his old debts, if he had told her the distress that he was in. But it had never occurred to him to be thus sincere with Nan. He had thought to figure before her as one who was not dependent on her fortune, who could very comfortably play with his hundreds, though not able, like herself, to be generous with thousands. He would, in fact, have been ashamed to own his rotten financial condition, either to Nan or to any of his social or political friends; and he fancied that he was concealing this condition in a very ingenious manner when he made a liberal outlay in connection with their quiet marriage, the honeymoon abroad, and the subsequent arrangements of their household in London.

This was all the more unfortunate because Nan, just of age, with her fortune in her own hands, would have given him anything without demur or question, if she had for a moment suspected that he needed it. His concealment was so effectual that it never entered her unsophisticated mind that this barrister in good practice, this rising politician, who seemed to have his feet on the ladder of success, could be crushed and burdened with debt. Sydney, however, was by no means blind. He knew well enough that he could have had the few thousands necessary to clear him if he had asked his wife for a cheque; but he did not trust her love sufficiently to believe that she would think as well of him from that day forward as she had done before, and he was not large-minded enough to conceive himself as ever shaking off the sense of obligation which her gift in such a form would impose upon him.

He had therefore drifted, in the matter of his debts, from expedient to expedient, in the hope that by good fortune and good management he might avoid the rocks that beset his course, and reach smooth water by his own exertion. But, as ill luck would have it, he had given a bill for six hundred pounds, due on the 23rd of November, to a certain Mr. Copley, a man who had been especially disgusted by Sydney's failure to obtain ready money at the time of his marriage, and who for this and other reasons had worked himself up into a malicious frame of mind. But on the 23rd of November, Sydney and his wife had run over to Paris for a few days with Sir John and Lady Pynsent, and then Nan had been so seriously indisposed that Sydney could not leave her without seeming unkindness; so that they did not reach London again until the 26th. This delay opened a chapter of incidents which ended as Sydney had not foreseen.

He had not forgotten the date of the bill, and knew that it was important to provide for it; but he did not antic.i.p.ate that the last day of grace would have expired before he could communicate with the man who held his signature.

Early on the morning of the 27th, he set out for Mr. Copley's office; and it so happened that at the same moment Mr. Copley set out also for Sydney's private house.

"Master in?" said Mr. Copley, who was a man of few words.

"No, sir."

"Lady in?"

"My mistress does not receive any one so early."

"Take that up--answer important--bearer waiting."

The footman condescended so far as this, and gave Mr. Copley's letter into the charge of Mrs. Campion's maid.

In less than ten minutes Nan sent for the unwelcome visitor. She was very pale when she received him, and she looked so young and fair that Mr. Copley was a little taken aback. He knew that Sydney had married an heiress, and it was from her, therefore, that he had determined, if possible, to get the money; but he half repented his resolve when he saw Mrs. Campion's face. "Too young to know anything about business," he said to himself.

But Nan was more business-like than he expected. She had for some time insisted on knowing a good deal about her own money matters, and she was well aware of her powers.

"Where is this paper--this acceptance you mention in your letter?" she began.

Mr. Copley silently took it from his notebook, and laid it on the table.

"Why did you bring this here? or, rather, why did you send it in to me?

Mr. Campion is not difficult to find when he is wanted. This is, of course, _his_ business." There was a little indignation in her tone.

"Beg your pardon, madam. You will observe the date of the acceptance. I presented it yesterday."

"At the bank?"

"Yes."

Nan bit her lip. She knew what this signified, and she would have given a thousand pounds to undo what had happened.

She went to a drawer in her writing-table and quietly took out a cheque-book. "We were delayed in returning to England by my illness,"

she said, as indifferently as she could. "Mr. Campion has gone out for the purpose of seeing to this." Her heart smote her for making a statement which she could not vouch for, but as Mr. Copley only bowed and looked uninterested, she went on rapidly, "As you have the paper with you it will save time--it will be satisfactory, I suppose--if I give you a cheque for it?"