Launa had decided on taking a house by the river—a cottage with drains and hot water, as well as roses!
Mrs. Cooper and Sylvia would come too. Launa hoped Mr. Bolton would not talk of this accident and betray Sylvia. She waited with apprehension for the morrow and the Member for Hackney.
Sylvia besought her to find out the circumstances.
“Find out if he is dead. How he died: when and where. Oh, God! It is torture! Torture! Find out all about him.”
Mr. Wainbridge, Mr. George, and Paul came next day. Launa dispatched them for particulars. There was nothing in the paper. Mr. Wainbridge went to the Club, Mr. George to his newspaper, and Paul to the High Commissioner for Canada. This was his first meeting with Launa since their day of confession. He asked for no further explanation and she gave none.
He returned in an hour. The High Commissioner had been gracious. It was said that Paul knew too much about him to allow of his being anything else. There were episodes; the lady was happily married, and the Commissioner was High. The news was confirmed—Lord Fairmouth was dead.
Paul went down to the cottage to inspect it and to order it to be immediately prepared for them.
In all this they had quite forgotten Mrs. Cooper.
The Member for Hackney arrived before tea. His business engagements were many, but he was in need of refreshment.
He found Launa in the music-room. He took her hand with sympathy. He knew how to express his emotion with the ease of a ladies’ doctor. Some people said he had no real emotions, only fictitious ones.
“What a charming room!” he said, as he viewed it and her with admiration. He changed his tone as he added, “How is she to-day?”
“Ah! In what way?” His experience had not provided him with any symptoms of such a thing. “The defeat of a measure,” he began, when Launa interrupted him.
“Oh, Mr. Bolton, does anyone know? Did the other man tell of what happened last night?”
Fear of discovery is a woman’s broken heart, he made a note of it, while he answered:
“No one knows. You may be quite sure of that. I arranged it with my friend. You may tell Miss Cooper I am glad I can set her—mind at rest.”
“She does not care, she does not think of that,” she answered. “She has not seen him for six months . . . she loves him, he loved her . . . she made him leave her.”