The Essential W. Somerset Maugham Collection. W. Somerset Maugham

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      "I had to dress myself decently, Mrs. Wickham," said Nora frigidly.

      Mrs. Wickham was graciousness itself. "Well, I'm sure my husband will be very glad to give you a year's salary, won't you, Jim?"

      "It's very kind of you," replied Nora coldly, "but I'm not inclined to accept anything but what is legally due to me."

      "You must remember," went on Mrs. Wickham, "that there'll be very heavy death duties to pay. They'll swallow up the income from Miss Wickham's estate for at least two years, won't they, Mr. Wynne?"

      "I quite understand," said Nora.

      "Perhaps you'll change your mind."

      "I don't think so."

      There was an awkward pause. Mr. Wynne rose from his seat at the table. His manner showed unmistakably that he was not impressed by Mrs. Wickham's great generosity.

      "Well, I think I must leave you," he said, looking at Nora. "Good-by, Miss Marsh. If I can be of any help to you I hope you'll let me know."

      "That's very kind of you."

      Bowing slightly to Mrs. Wickham and nodding to her husband, he went out.

      "We must go, too, Dorothy," said James uneasily.

      Mrs. Wickham began drawing on her gloves. "Jim will be writing to you in a day or two. You know how grateful we both are for all you did for our poor aunt. We shall be glad to give you the very highest references. You're such a wonderful nurse. I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in getting another situation; I expect I can find you something myself. I'll ask among all my friends."

      Nora made no reply to this affable speech.

      "Come on, Dorothy; we really haven't any time to lose," said Wickham hurriedly.

      "Good-by, Miss Marsh."

      "Good-by," said Nora dully. She stood, her hands resting on the table, her eyes fastened on the long blue envelope which Mr. Wynne had forgotten. From a long way off she heard the wheels of the cab on the driveway.

      CHAPTER IV

      "I thought they were never going. Well?"

      It was Miss Pringle who had come in from her retreat in the garden, eager to hear the news the moment she had seen the Wickhams driving away. Nora turned and looked at her without a word.

      Miss Pringle was genuinely startled at the drawn look on her face.

      "Nora! What's the matter? Isn't it as much as you thought?"

      "Miss Wickham has left me nothing," said Nora in a dead voice.

      Miss Pringle gave a positive wail of anguish. "Oh-h-h-h."

      "Not a penny. Oh, it's cruel!" the girl said, almost wildly. "After all," she went on bitterly, "there was no need for her to leave me anything. She gave me board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. If I stayed it was because I chose. But she needn't have promised me anything. She needn't have prevented me from marrying."

      "My dear, you could never have married that little assistant. He wasn't a gentleman," Miss Pringle reminded her.

      "Ten years! The ten best years of a woman's life, when other girls are enjoying themselves. And what did I get for it? Board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. A cook does better than that."

      "We can't expect to make as much money as a good cook," said Miss Pringle, with touching and unconscious pathos. "One has to pay something for living like a lady among people of one's own class."

      "Oh, it's cruel!" Nora could only repeat.

      "My dear," said Miss Pringle with an effort at consolation, "don't give way. I'm sure you'll have no difficulty in finding another situation. You wash lace beautifully and no one can arrange flowers like you."

      Nora sank wearily into a chair. "And I was dreaming of France and Italy--I shall spend ten years more with an old lady, and then she'll die and I shall look out for another situation. It won't be so easy then because I shan't be so young. And so it'll go on until I can't find a situation because I'm too old, and then some charitable people will get me into a home. You like the life, don't you?"

      "My dear, there are so few things a gentlewoman can do."

      "When I think of those ten years," said Nora, pacing up and down the length of the room, "having to put up with every unreasonableness! Never being allowed to feel ill or tired. No servant would have stood what I have. The humiliation I've endured!"

      "You're tired and out of sorts," said Miss Pringle soothingly. "Everyone isn't so trying as Miss Wickham. I'm sure Mrs. Hubbard has been kindness itself to me."

      "Considering."

      "I don't know what you mean by 'considering.'"

      "Considering that she's rich and you're poor. She gives you her old clothes. She frequently doesn't ask you to have dinner by yourself when she's giving a party. She doesn't remind you that you're a dependent unless she's very much put out. But you--you've had thirty years of it. You've eaten the bitter bread of slavery till--till it tastes like plum cake!"

      Miss Pringle was distinctly hurt. "I don't know why you say such things to me, Nora."

      "Oh, you mustn't mind what I say; I----"

      "Mr. Hornby would like to see you for a minute, Miss," said Kate from the doorway.

      "Now?"

      "I told him I didn't think it would be very convenient, Miss, but he says it's very important, and he won't detain you more than five minutes."

      "What a nuisance. Ask him to come in."

      "Very good, Miss."

      "I wonder what on earth he can want."

      "Who is he, Nora?"

      "Oh, he's the son of Colonel Hornby. Don't you know, he lives at the top of Molyneux Park? His mother was a great friend of Miss Wickham's. He comes down here now and then for week-ends. He's got something to do with motor cars."

      "Mr. Hornby," said Kate from the door.

      Reginald Hornby was evidently one of those candid souls who are above simulating an emotion they do not feel. He had regarded the late Miss Wickham as an unusually tiresome old woman. His mother had liked her of course. But he could hardly have been expected to do so. Moreover, he had a shrewd notion that she must have been a perfect Tartar to live with. Miss Marsh might be busy or tired out with the ordeal of the day, but as she also might be leaving almost immediately and he wanted to see her, he had not hesitated to come, once he was sure that the Wickham relatives had departed. That he would find the late Miss Wickham's companion indulging in any show of grief for her late СКАЧАТЬ