The Yellow Flag: A Novel. Volume 3 (of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Yellow Flag: A Novel. Volume 3 (of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
Two months after the date of these occurrences, on a bright and balmy
spring morning, at a little City church hiding away somewhere between
enormous blocks of warehouses, Humphrey Statham and Alice were
married.
Brave to the last, Martin Gurwood performed the service, reading it
with a strong manly voice, and imploring the blessing of Heaven on
those concerned with unaffected fervour.
When the ceremony was ended, and the bride and bridegroom had
departed, Martin joined the one other person who had been
present--Pauline.
'Your plans for leaving are matured?' he said.
'So far matured,' she said, with a sad smile, 'that the cab with my
luggage is at the end of the street, and that when I leave this, I go
on board the steamer.'
'Indeed,' said Martin. 'Then you have taken leave of Alice?'.
'Yes; early this morning.'
'And you have told her of your plans?'
'No, indeed, for they are as yet undecided; but I have told her that I
will write and let her know them.'
'Be sure that you do,' said Martin, 'for we are all of us deeply
interested in you. I have brought you,' he added, handing her a
packet, 'your own two thousand pounds. With them you will find two
thousand pounds more--one thousand from Alice as your sister-in-law,
one thousand from Humphrey as your dead husband's old friend. They
bade me give you this with their united love, and hoped you would not
shrink from accepting it.'
Pauline's voice shook very much as she replied, 'I will accept it
certainly; I shall hope to find a good use for it.'
'Of that I have no doubt,' said Martin. They had reached the end of
the street by this time, and found the luggage-laden cab in waiting.
'Good-bye, Madame Du Tertre,' said Martin, after he had handed her
into the vehicle, 'good-bye, and God bless you.'
'Good-bye, M. Martin,' said Pauline, returning his hand-pressure, and
looking for an instant straight into his eyes, 'good-bye.' Then when
the cab had driven off, she threw up her hands and crying out
passionately, 'Adieu à jamais!' pulled her veil over her face and
burst into a flood of tears.
CHAPTER XII.
L'ENVOI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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