‘A glorious day it was!’ Gower exclaimed.

‘It was a day of great glory for me,’ said Carinthia.  ’Your foot did not pain you for long?’

‘The length of two pipes.  You were with your brother.’

’With my brother.  My brother has married a most beautiful lady.  He is now travelling his happy time—­my Chillon!’

There came a radiance on her under-eyelids.  There was no weeping.

Struck by the contrast between the two simultaneous honeymoons, and a vision of the high-spirited mountain girl, seen in this place a young bride seeking her husband, Gower Woodseer could have performed that unphilosophical part.  He had to shake himself.  She seemed really a soaring bird brought down by the fowler.

Lord Fleetwood’s manner of abandoning her was the mystery.

Gower stood waiting for her initiative, when the minister interposed:  ’There are books, books of our titled people-the Peers, books of the Peerage.  They would supply the address.  My son will discover where to examine them.  He will find the address.  Most of the great noblemen have a London house.’

‘My husband has a house in London,’ Carinthia said.

‘I know him, to some degree,’ said Gower.

She remarked:  ‘I have heard that you do.’

Her lips were shut, as to any hint at his treatment of her.

Gower went into the shop to speak with Madge.  The girl was talking in the business tone to customers; she finished her commission hurriedly and joined him on the pavement by the doorstep.  Her voice was like the change for the swing of a door from street to temple.

’You’ve seen how brave she is, sir.  She has things to bear.  Never cries, never frets.  Her marriage day—­leastways . . .  I can’t, no girl can tell.  A great nobleman, yes.  She waited, believing in him; she does.  She hasn’t spoken to me of what she’s had to bear.  I don’t know; I guess; I’m sure I’m right—­and him a man!  Girls learn to know men, call them gentlemen or sweeps.  She thinks she has only to meet him to persuade him she ’s fit to be loved by him.  She thinks of love.  Would he—­our tongues are tied except among ourselves to a sister.  Leaves her by herself, with only me, after—­it knocks me dumb!  Many a man commits a murder wouldn’t do that.  She could force him to—­no, it isn’t a house she wants, she wants him.  He’s her husband, Mr. Woodseer.  You will do what you can to help; I judge by your father.  I and Sarah ’ll slave for her to be as comfortable—­as we—­can make her; we can’t give her what she ’s used to.  I shall count the hours.’

‘You sold me apples when your head was just above the counter,’ said Gower.

‘Did I?—­you won’t lose time, sir?’ she rejoined.  ’Her box is down at the beastly inn in Kent.  Kind people, I dare say; their bill was paid any extent, they said.  And he might do as he liked in it—­enter it like a thief, if it pleased him, and off like one, and they no wiser.  She walked to his big house Esslemont for news of him.  And I’m not a snivelling wench either; but she speaks of him a way to make a girl drink her tears, if they ain’t to be let fall.’