Magdalen, who had been kind to her at all other times, had angrily
forbidden it. The captain--utterly ignorant of Mrs. Lecount's interest
in the secrets of the wardrobe--had never so much as approached it. All
the information that he had extracted from his wife's mental confusion,
he had extracted by putting direct questions, derived purely from
the resources of his own knowledge. He had insisted on plain answers,
without excuses of any kind; he had carried his point as usual; and
his departure the same morning had left him no chance of re-opening the
question, even if his irritation against his wife had permitted him
to do so. There the Alpaca dress hung, neglected in the dark--the
unnoticed, unsuspected center of dangers that were still to come.
Toward the afternoon Mrs. Wragge took courage to start a suggestion of
her own--she pleaded for a little turn in the fresh air.
Magdalen passively put on her hat; passively accompanied her companion
along the public walk, until they reached its northward extremity. Here
the beach was left solitary, and here they sat down, side by side, on
the shingle. It was a bright, exhilarating day; pleasure-boats were
sailing on the calm blue water; Aldborough was idling happily afloat
and ashore.
Pages:
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800