In the top floor back the girl was contemplating the twenty five-pound notes. She had never before been the owner of so much money, or anything like so much. Had she been the possessor of such a fortune when she came to town she might never have become a "model" in the costume department of the world-famed Messrs Glover & Silk, she might never have made the acquaintance of Robert Champion, she would certainly never have become his wife. The glamour which had seemed to surround him had been the result of the circ.u.mstances in which she had first encountered him. Had her own position not been such a pitiable one she would never have been duped by him, by his impudent a.s.surance, his brazen lies, his reckless promises. She had seen that clearly, long ago.

A hundred pounds! Why, the fraud for which, at that moment, he was in gaol had had for its objective a sum of less than twenty pounds. She writhed as she thought of it. Was he already in prisoner's clothes, marked with the broad arrow? Was he thinking of her in his felon's cell? She tried to put the vision from her, as one too horrible for contemplation. Would it persistently recur to her, in season and out, her whole life long? G.o.d forbid! Rather than that, better death, despite her uncle's fortune.

In any case she could at least afford to treat herself to a sufficient meal. She went to a quiet restaurant in Oxford Street, and there fared sumptuously--that is, sumptuously in comparison to the fashion in which she had fared this many and many a day. Afterwards, she strolled along the now lamp-lit street. As she went she met a girl of about her own age who was decked out in tawdry splendours. They had nearly pa.s.sed before they knew each other. Then recognition came. The other girl stopped and turned.

"Why, Vi!" she exclaimed. "Who'd have dreamt of seeing you?"

The girl addressed did not attempt to return the greeting. She did not even acknowledge it. Instead she rushed off the pavement into a "crawling" hansom, saying to the driver as she entered his vehicle,--

"Drive me to the city--anywhere; only be quick and get away from here!"

When she concluded that she was well out of that other girl's sight she instructed the man to drive her to Percy Street. At the corner of the street she alighted. Once more in her attic she did as she had done on her previous return to it--she sank down on to the side of the bed, trembling from head to foot.

The woman who had spoken to her in Oxford Street was Sarah Stevens, who had been a fellow employee at Messrs Glover & Silk's. It was she who had introduced her to Robert Champion. It was largely owing to the tales she had told of him, and to her eager advocacy of his suit, that she had been jockeyed into becoming his wife. It was only afterwards, when it was too late, that she had learnt that the girl was as bad as--if not worse than--the man to whom she had betrayed her. From the beginning the pair had been co-conspirators; Violet Arnott had been their victim.

Was she to be haunted always by the fear of such encounters? Rather than run that risk she would never again set foot in London. Certainly, the sooner she was out of it the better.

CHAPTER III

THE HEIRESS ENTERS INTO HER OWN

During the days and weeks which followed it was as though she were the chief personage in a strange, continuous dream. Always she expected an awakening--of a kind of which she did not dare to think. But the dream continued. All at once her path was strewn with roses; up to then she had seemed to have to pick her way, barefooted, amid stones and thistles. No obstacle of any kind arose. Everything was smooth and easy. Her claim to be her uncle's niece was admitted as soon as it was made. Under her uncle's will Mr Stacey was the sole trustee. To all intents and purposes his trusteeship was at an end when she was found.

She was of age; the property was hers to do with exactly as she would.

By no conditions was she bound. She was her own mistress; in sole control of that great fortune. It was a singular position for a young girl to find herself suddenly occupying.

She was glad enough to leave her affairs in the hands of Messrs Stacey, Morris & Binns. In those early days the mere attempt to understand them was beyond her power. They were anxious enough to place before her an exact statement of the position she had now to occupy. To some extent she grasped its meaning. But the details she insisted on being allowed to a.s.similate by degrees.

"If I know pretty well what I have and what I haven't, what I can do and what I can't, and what my duties and responsibilities are, say, in three, or even six months' time, I'll be content. In the meanwhile you must continue to do precisely what you have been doing during the time in which I was still not found. I understand sufficiently to know that you have managed all things better than I am ever likely to."

She provided herself with what she deemed an ample, and, indeed, extravagant supply of clothing at Mrs Stacey's urgent request. That lady's ideas, however, were much more gorgeous than her own. The solicitor's wife insisted that it was only right and proper that she should have a wardrobe which, as she put it, "was suitable to her position." That meant, apparently, that, in the way of wearing apparel, she should supply herself with the contents of a good-sized London shop. To that Miss Arnott objected.

"What do you suppose I shall do with all those things?" she demanded.

"I am going into the country to stay there. I am going to live all alone, as my uncle did. I sha'n't see a creature from week's end to week's end--a heap of new dresses won't be wanted for that. They'll all be out of fashion long before I have a chance of wearing them."

Mrs Stacey smiled; she was a lady of ample proportions, who had herself a taste for sumptuous raiment.

"I fancy, dear Miss Arnott, that even now you don't realise your own situation. Do you really suppose that--as you suggest--you will be allowed to live all alone at Exham Park, without seeing a creature from week's end to week's end?"

"Who is going to prevent me?"

"Dear Miss Arnott, you are positively amusing. Before you have been there a fortnight the whole county, at least, will have been inside your doors."

"I hope not."

The look of distress on the young lady's countenance was almost comical.

"You speak, I think, without reflection. I, personally, should be both grieved and disappointed if anything else were to happen."

"You would be grieved and disappointed? Good gracious! Mrs Stacey, why?"

"It is only in accordance with the requirements of common decency that a person in your position should receive adequate recognition. If everyone did not call on you you would be subjected to an injurious slight."

"Certainly that point of view did not occur to me. Up to now no one worth speaking of has recognised my existence in the slightest degree.

The idea, therefore, that it has suddenly become everyone's duty to do so is, to say the least, a novel one.

"So I imagined. It is, however, as I say; you see, circ.u.mstances are altered. Quite apart from the period when you will possess a town residence--"

"That period will be never."

"Never is a long while--a very long while. I say, quite apart from that period, what I cannot but call your unique position will certainly ent.i.tle you to act as one of the leaders of county society."

"How dreadful! I'm beginning to wish my position wasn't so unique."

"You speak, if you will forgive my saying so, as a child. Providence has seen fit to place you in a position in which you will be an object of universal admiration. With your youth, your appearance, your fortune, not only all Hampshire, but all England, will be at your feet.

"All England! Mrs Stacey, isn't that just a little exaggerated?"

"Not in the least. On the contrary, my language, if anything, errs on the side of being too guarded. A beautiful young girl of twenty-one, all alone in the world, with more than a hundred thousand pounds a year entirely under her own control--princes from all parts of the world will tumble over each other in their desire to find favour in your eyes."

"Then princes must be much more foolish persons than I supposed."

"My dear, of that we will say nothing. Don't let us speak evil of dignitaries. I was always brought up to think of them with respect. To return to the subject of your wardrobe. I have merely made these few remarks in order to point out to you how essential it is that you should be furnished, at the outset, with a wardrobe likely to prove equal to all the demands which are certain to be made on one in your position."

"All the same, I won't have five hundred dresses. Position or no position, I know I shall be much happier with five."

It is an undoubted fact that the young lady's equipment of costumes extended to more than five, though it stopped far short of the number which her feminine mentor considered adequate. Indeed, Mrs Stacey made no secret of her opinion that, from the social point of view, her arrangements were scarcely decent.

"At the very first serious call which is made upon your resources, you will find yourself absolutely without a thing to wear. Then you'll have to rush up to town and have clothes made for you in red-hot haste, than which nothing can be more unsatisfactory."

"I shall have to chance that. I hate shops and I hate shopping."

"My dear!"

"I do. I don't care how it is with other girls, it's like that with me.

I've already had more than enough of dressmakers; for ever so long I promise you that I won't go near one for another single thing. I'm going to the country, and I'm going to live a country life; and for the kind of country life I mean to live you don't want frocks."

Mrs Stacey lifted up her hands and sighed. To her such sentiments seemed almost improper. It was obvious that Miss Arnott meant to be her own mistress in something more than name. On one question, however, she was over-ruled. That was on the question of a companion.

It was perfectly clear, both to her legal advisers and to the senior partner's wife, that it was altogether impossible for her to live at Exham Park entirely companionless.

"What harm will there be?" she demanded. "I shall be quite alone."

"My dear," returned Mrs Stacey, "you won't understand. It is precisely that which is impossible--you must not be quite alone; a young girl, a mere child like you. People will not only think things, they will say them--and they will be right in doing so. The idea is monstrous, not to be entertained for a moment. You must have some sort of a companion."

Miss Arnott emitted a sound which might have been meant for a groan.