her husband; she was also a deserted wife.
Indignation struggled with the desire not to say anything that might offend against her sense of wifely dignity. After some hesitation he continued: "My desire to be of service arose from my seeing you here." Looking round the little room, the shabby furniture of which appeared the worse that it was very untidy and littered with toys — Olivia herself, still neatly though cheaply clad, the only comely object in it — he added, "This surely is not a fit place for you to be in. It must be a very damp house in winter, on the edge of the river, and a cold one too. I was sorry when I heard this morning that it was occupied by a lady in delicate health, little guessing who the lady was; but now ——"
"It is not a nice situation at this time of year, certainly. The children suffer — we all suffer who are in the house; but we came down for the autumn only, and stayed on for various reasons longer than was intended."
"I think I can understand; your husband being in such remote parts, there may be a difficulty about remittances coming punctually."
"Quite so," said Olivia, catching at the suggestion. "It was very embarrassing, of course; but in my difficulty I bethought me of Dr. Maxwell, such a very old friend of my poor father's, you know — and he put matters straight at once. His kindness has been perfectly invaluable to me in this temporary difficulty; indeed I don't know what I should have done but for his help." And at this point poor Olivia nearly broke down, and the tear stood in the dark eyes, which seemed larger and more lustrous than ever.
"Then are you not going to stay here much longer? "
"No; Dr. Maxwell is going to take lodgings for us on the south coast, where the air is milder; we move the day after to-morrow. I must summon up courage in the morning," she added, smiling faintly, "to undertake the labour of packing."
"But I suppose the small worries of life may not end with a change of residence. I don't want to put myself on a footing with Maxwell, but surely I may claim to be an old friend too. Time was, perhaps," he continued, with some hesitation, "when I could not have professed the same disinterested views, but all that, as you know, is past and gone. May I not now offer the hearty services of one who claims to be an old friend too, and nothing more?"
Having said this, his conscience misgave him for his heartlessness. Was this a time, when her state had fallen so low, to twit her with the loss of the spell by which she held him so long enchained?
And poor Olivia herself may have been woman enough to feel a passing pang on being reminded that she had no longer the same power of fascination over the once constant lover, for there was a slight tone of pique in her manner as she thanked him for putting the matter on so straight-forward a footing; but she added that there was really no need to make use of his most kind offers of service — for that Dr. Maxwell had got over all her difculties for her.
"But still there may be present wants," persisted Yorke; "surely when I have more money than I know what to do with at my bankers, the obligation would be quite nominal only if you made use of a small sum, till you were placed in funds yourself. The children, for instance, might surely have some warmer clothing with advantage."
"Poor little darlings," said their mother, "I am afraid they have felt the cold very much; but they will be better off to-morrow, I hope. The fact is, — I can hardly explain how it is — I never was a good hand at business matters, you know, — it appears there is some money due to me, which ought to have come before. Dr. Maxwell has put it all right now. And to-morrow the children's warm clothes will be here. But I am so very much obliged to you all the same. Pray do not think me ungrateful."
Just then the maid came in with the children, — the latter looking, Yorke noticed, almost as ill-kept and untidy as herself, — which made a timely diversion from the forced manner which had so far marked the interview. Yorke had soon the little Olivia on his knee, for children always took readily to him; the younger sat on its mother's lap. He had never before seen her in the character of a mother, and as she sat with the child nestling in her arms, looking pale and fragile, but with still the old grace in every attitude, he could not but be struck by the contrast between the present Olivia, with one poor drab to help her in the labours of the ill-found household, and the radiant young beauty at whose shrine he used to worship, with no cares and no duties, save such as flowed out of her accomplishments, and who seemed fashioned to command service and devotion from all who came around her.
