It would be better to be alone even if things had gone right.The letter was from Sir Moses Monaldini.Grotesque and ignoble as it naturally strikes the uninitiated as seeming, the situation had its touch of hideous pathos.She had fought for her own hand for years;she could not dig, and to beg she was not ashamed; but a time had come when even the most adroit begging began to bore people.They saw through it, and then there resulted strained relations, slight stiffness of manner, even in the most useful and amiable persons, lack of desire to be hospitable, or even condescendingly generous.Cold shoulders were turned, there were ominous threatenings of icy backs presenting themselves.The very tradesmen had found this out, and could not be persuaded that the advertisement furnished by the fact that two beautiful women of fashion ate, drank, and wore the articles which formed the items in their unpaid bills, was sufficient return for the outlay of capital required.Even Mrs.Mellish, when graciously approached by the "relative of Miss Temple Barholm, whose perfect wardrobe you supplied," had listened to all seductions with a civil eye fixed unmovedly and had referred to the "rules of the establishment." Nearer and nearer the edge of the abyss the years had pushed them, and now if something did not happen--something--something--even the increasingly shabby small house in town would become a thing of the past.And what then? Could any one wonder she said to herself that she could have beaten Joan furiously.It would not matter to any one else if they dropped out of the world into squalid oblivion--oh, she knew that--she knew that with bitter certainty!--but oh, how it would matter to them!--at least to herself.
It was all very well for Mudie's to pour forth streams of sentimental novels preaching the horrors of girls marrying for money, but what were you to do--what in heaven's name were you to do? So, feeling terrified enough actually to offer up a prayer, she took the imposingly addressed letter into the library.
The men had come into the drawing-room when she returned.As she entered, Joan did not glance up from the book she was reading, but at the first sound of her voice she knew what had occurred.
"I was obliged to dash off a note to Broome Haughton so that it would be ready for the early post," Lady Mallowe said.She was at her best.
Palliser saw that some years had slipped from her shoulders.The moment which relieves or even promises to relieve fears does astonishing things.Tembarom wondered whether she had had good news, and Miss Alicia thought that her evening dress was more becoming than any she had ever seen her wear before.Her brilliant air of social ease returned to her, and she began to talk fluently of what was being done in London, and to touch lightly upon the possibility of taking part in great functions.For some time she had rather evaded talk of the future.Palliser had known that the future had seemed to be closing in upon her, and leaving her staring at a high blank wall.
