“By Jove!” said Lavender, “there is Redburn. I did not know he knew Mrs.
Lorraine and her mother. That is Lord Arthur Redburn, Sheila; mind, if
you should talk to him, not to call him ‘my lord.’”
Sheila laughed and said, “How am I to remember all these things?”
They got into the house, and by-and-by Lavender found himself, with
Sheila on his arm, entering a drawing-room to present her to certain of
his friends. It was a large room, with a great deal of gilding and color
about it, and with a conservatory at the further end; but the blaze of
light had not so bewildering an effect on Sheila’s eyes as the
appearance of two ladies to whom she was now introduced. She had heard
much about them. She was curious to see them. Many a time had she
thought over the strange story Lavender had told her of the woman who
heard that her husband was dying in a hospital during the war, and
started off, herself and her daughter, to find him out; how there was in
the same hospital another dying man whom they had known some years
before, and who had gone away because the girl would not listen to him;
how this man, being very near to death, begged that the girl would do
him the last favor he would ask of her, of wearing his name and
inheriting his property; and how, some few hours after the strange and
sad ceremony had been performed, he breathed his last, happy in holding
her hand. The father died next day, and the two widows were thrown upon
the world, almost without friends, but not without means. This man,
Lorraine, had been possessed of considerable wealth, and the girl who
had suddenly become mistress of it found herself able to employ all
possible means in assuaging her mother’s grief. They began to travel.
The two women went from capital to capital, until at last they came to
London; and here, having gathered around them a considerable number of
friends, they proposed to take up their residence permanently. Lavender
had often talked to Sheila about Mrs. Lorraine; about her shrewdness,
her sharp sayings, and the odd contrast between this clever, keen, frank
woman of the world and the woman one would have expected to be the
heroine of a pathetic tale.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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