"They have not built a new entrance," she remarked to herself, as the
coachman reined up the chestnuts before the meagre steps. "But
alterations are being made," she thought, catching sight of some
scaffolding. As she stepped out of her carriage she remembered that her
dress and horses could not fail to suggest Owen's money to her father.
She paused, and then hoped he would remember that she was getting three
hundred pounds a week, and could pay for her carriage and gowns
herself. And, smiling at the idea of dressing herself in a humble frock
suitable for reconciliation, she entered the church hurriedly. She did
not care to meet him in open daylight, in the presence of her servants.
The church would be a better place. He could not say much to her in
church, and she thought she would like to meet him suddenly face to
face; then there would be no time for explanations, and he could not
refuse to speak to her. Looking round she saw that Mass was in progress
at one of the side altars. The acolyte had just changed the book from
the left to the right, and the congregation of about a dozen had risen
for the reading of the Gospel. She knew that her father was not among
them. She must have known all the while that he was not in church. If he
were at St. Joseph's, he would be in the practising room. She might go
round and ask for him ... and run the risk of meeting one of the
priests! They were men of tact, and would refrain from unpleasant
allusions. But they knew she was on the stage, that she had not been
back since she had left home; they could not but suspect; however they
might speak, she could not avoid reading meanings, which very likely
were not intended, into their words.... And she would see the practising
room full of faces, and her father, already angry at the interruption,
opening the door to her. It would be worse than meeting him in the
street. No, she would not seek him in the practising room--then
where--Dulwich? Perhaps, but not to-day. She would wait in the church
and see if the Elevation compelled her to bow her head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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