Mrs. Dorriman: A Novel. Volume 3 of 3Chetwynd, Henry Wayland, Mrs.
General
Mrs. Dorriman: A Novel. Volume 3 of 3
Chetwynd, Henry Wayland, Mrs.
Fiction
Grace saw him enter with some misgiving. The horrible thought occurred
to her that perhaps he might refer in some way to investments or
something that might lead her husband to make inquiry. She could only
answer by speaking the truth. To her immense relief Paul said, "As you
have some one to talk to now I will go and smoke," and so saying he left
her with Mr. Stevens.
Grace felt now or never was her opportunity. Before Mr. Stevens could
look round she poured out her trouble with a rapidity and vehemence that
astonished him. When he, at length understood, he entered very fully
into it all.
"Your husband is quite right; I should have the same feeling about it,"
he said.
"That makes it worse for me," said Grace, colouring, "but perhaps you
have never had my temptation; you were never dependent upon others--very
nearly penniless."
"Penniless, yes! Dependent, no!" he answered, "since I could work for my
living."
"Mr. Sandford ruled my fate and Margaret's," answered Grace, "and that
was never thought of; but I wish--oh! how I wish--I knew what to do.
Would he help me?"
"Mr. Sandford is the one person who could help you," said Mr. Stevens;
"a frank appeal to him might be productive of much good, and my advice
to you is not to hide your trouble from your husband; let him know it;
the fewer secrets between married people the less likely they are ever
to disagree."
"I will tell him some day," answered Grace, "but I have behaved very
badly to Mr. Sandford--he has no reason to love me."
"He is a man who has much to contend against, but he is a generous man.
He never grudges money, and he can but say he can do nothing. I hope you
left all well at Inchbrae," he said, with a resolute turning away from
the subject.
"'_All_' consisting of Mrs. Dorriman and my sister," laughed Grace,
rallying the moment her trouble was put out of sight.
"Ah! I am going there next week to meet Mr. Sandford; there is still
something to be arranged between us."
"Then," asked Grace, "could you not say something for me? Could you not
speak to Mr. Sandford for me?"
"I could, certainly, but Mr. Sandford dislikes me, and after all, to
speak plain English, Mrs. Lyons, what can he do? There is only one way
in which he can help you. If he chooses to pay you your income out of
his own pocket, or to pay fifteen thousand pounds to your account. When
you talk of help--which is an exceedingly vague word--you should put it
in its practical form."
"Then everything is at an end," exclaimed Grace, and she leaned back
upon the cushions in despair.
"I do not quite agree with you," he answered, "only I wished you to see
the practical side of the question; there is no use in my going to a
man like Mr. Sandford and when he puts the question, '_What does she
expect me to do?_' have nothing to reply on your account."
"I cannot ask him to give me fifteen thousand pounds, it is impossible!"
said Grace flushing at the curt tone used by Mr. Stevens.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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