style="font-size:15px;"> "But," she resumed, "it is my home no longer. It is true I am going back there for a little time-a few weeks; but that is only to arrange matters. I have now no home."
The voice of the woman was almost free from emotion. It was slightly tremulous towards the end; but if she had been reading aloud a passage she but dimly understood, she could have displayed no less emotion.
"No home! – no home!" said Mr. Paulton, so softly as to be only just audible. "I was under the impression you had been left Kilcash House."
"Yes, my husband left me Kilcash House and other things-other valuable things-and a large sum of money. But-"
Again she paused at the ominous "but."
Again all were silent, and now even Mr. Paulton could not light on words that seemed likely to help the widow over her hesitation.
"But I cannot take anything."
Once more the old man repeated her words: "Cannot take anything! Are the conditions so extraordinary-so onerous?"
He and O'Brien thought that the principal condition must be forfeiture in case she married Blake. This would explain much of what was now incomprehensible.
"There are no conditions whatever in the will," she said in the same unmoved way.
"No conditions! And yet you have no home, although your late husband has left you a fine house?"
"Yes, and all that is necessary for the maintenance of that house; notwithstanding which, I have no home, and am a beggar."
"Mrs. Davenport," cried the old man, with genuine concern, "what you say is very shocking. I hope it is not true."
"I know this is not the time or place to talk of business. I know my business can have little or no interest for you."
"Excuse me, my dear Mrs. Davenport, there is nothing out of place about such talk now, and you really must not say we take but slight interest in your affairs. On the contrary, we are very much interested in them. I think I may answer for every member of my family, and say that beyond our own immediate circle of relatives there is no lady in whom we take so deep an interest."
The old man was solemn and emphatic.
"I am sure," said Mrs. Paulton, looking round the table, "that my husband has said nothing but the simple fact."
She turned her eyes upon the widow.
"Mrs. Davenport, I hope you will always allow me to be your friend. Your troubles have, I know, been very great, and you are now no doubt suffering so severely that you think the whole world is against you. We, at all events, are not. Anything we can do for you we will; and, believe me, Mrs. Davenport, doing anything for you will be a downright pleasure."
The widow bowed her head for a moment before speaking. It seemed as though she could not trust her voice. After a brief pause she sat up, and, resting the tips of the fingers of both hands on the table, said:
"As I told you earlier to-day, I have been alone all my life, and the notion of fellowship is terrible to me, coming now upon me when my life is over."
"Indeed you should not talk of your life being over. You are still quite young. Many a woman does not begin her life until she is older than you."
"I am thirty-four, and that is not young for one to begin life."
"But, may I ask," said Mr. Paulton, "how it is that the will becomes inoperative? How is it that you cannot avail yourself of your husband's bequests?"
"My reasons for not taking my husband's money must, for the present-I hope for ever-remain with myself. Mr. Blake has told me certain things, and I have found out others myself. I am now without money-I do not mean," she said, flushing slightly, "for the present moment, for a month or two-but I am without any money on which I can rely for my support. I shall have to begin life again-or, rather, begin it for the first time. I shall have to work for my living, just as any other widow who is left alone without provision. This is very plain speaking, but the position is simple."
"But, my dear Mrs. Davenport, you must not in this way give yourself up to despair," said Mr. Paulton, as he rose and stood beside her.
"Despair!" she cried, looking up at him with a quick glance of angry surprise. "Despair! You do not think me so poor a coward as to despair. How can one who never knew hope know despair? I am in no trouble about the future. I shall take to a line of life in which there is room and to spare for such as I."
"Do not do anything hastily, I have a good deal of influence left."
Mrs. Paulton, who saw that Mrs. Davenport was excited, over-wrought, rose and moved towards the door. The others stood up, excepting Mrs. Davenport, who, as she was excited and looking up into Mr. Paulton's face, did not hear the stir or see the move.
"I am most sincerely obliged to you, Mr. Paulton, but I greatly fear that, much as I know you would wish it, you could not aid me in my business scheme."
"May I ask what the business is?"
"The stage."
"The stage, Mrs. Davenport! You astound me."
"I have lived alone and secluded all my life. For the future I shall, if I can, live among thousands of people, whom I will compel to sympathise with my mimic trials, since I never had any one to sympathise with my real ones. I shall flee from an obscurity greater than a cloister's to the blaze and full publicity of the footlights. You think me mad?"
"No; ill-advised. Who suggested you should do this?"
She glanced around, and saw that the ladies were waiting for her.
"I beg your pardon," she said to them, as she rose and walked towards the door, which Alfred held open.
She turned back as she went out, and answered Mr. Paulton's question with the two words:
"Mr. Blake."
Alfred closed the door. The three men looked in amazement at one another.
"There's something devilish in her or Blake," said the old man.
"Or both," said Jerry O'Brien.
By a tremendous effort, Alfred Paulton sat down and kept still. He did not say anything aloud, but to himself he moaned:
"If I lose her, my reason will go again-this time for ever!"
CHAPTER XXXIV
A TELEGRAM FROM THE MAIL
When the men found themselves alone and somewhat calmed down after the excitement caused by Mrs. Davenport's astonishing announcement, Mr. Paulton and Jerry discussed the proposed step with great minuteness and intelligence, while Alfred sat mute and listless. He pleaded the necessity of his going to bed early on account of to-morrow's journey. In the course of the discussion between the two elder men, Jerry held that if she did take to the stage, she would make one of the most startling successes of the time.
"She has beauty enough," he said, "to make men fools, and fire enough to make them lunatics. What a Lady Macbeth she would be!"
Mr. Paulton was anything but a fogey. He did not forget that he had been once young, nor did
