How Damon Parted From Pythias
Lady Ongar, when she left Count Pateroff at the little
fort on the cliff and entered by herself the gardens
belonging to the hotel, had long since made up her
mind that there should at last be a positive severance
between herself and her devoted Sophie. For half
an hour she had been walking in silence by the count’s
side; and though, of course, she had heard all that
he had spoken, she had been able in that time to consider
much. It must have been through Sophie that the
count had heard of her journey to the Isle of Wight;
and, worse than that, Sophie must, as she thought,
have instigated this pursuit. In that she wronged
her poor friend. Sophie had been simply paid
by her brother for giving such information as enabled
him to arrange this meeting. She had not even
counselled him to follow Lady Ongar. But now Lady
Ongar, in blind wrath, determined that Sophie should
be expelled from her bosom. Lady Ongar would
find this task of expulsion the less difficult in that
she had come to loathe her devoted friend, and to
feel it to be incumbent on her to rid herself of such
devotion. Now had arrived the moment in which
it might be done.
And yet there were difficulties. Two ladies living
together in an inn cannot, without much that is disagreeable,
send down to the landlord saying that they want separate
rooms, because they have taken it into their minds
to hate each other. And there would, moreover,
be something awkward in saying to Sophie that, though
she was discarded, her bill should be paid—for
this last and only time. No; Lady Ongar had already
perceived that would not do. She would not quarrel
with Sophie after that fashion. She would leave
the Isle of Wight on the following morning early,
informing Sophie why she did so, and would offer money
to the little Franco-Pole, presuming that it might
not be agreeable to the Franco-Pole to be hurried
away from her marine or rural happiness so quickly.
But in doing this she would be careful to make Sophie
understand that Bolton Street was to be closed against
her for ever afterward. With neither Count Pateroff
nor his sister would she ever again willingly place
herself in contact.
It was dark as she entered the house—the
walk out, her delay there, and her return having together
occupied her three hours. She had hardly felt
the dusk growing on her as she progressed steadily
on her way, with that odious man beside her.
She had been thinking of other things, and her eyes
had accustomed themselves gradually to the fading twilight,
But now, when she saw the glimmer of the lamps from
the inn-windows, she knew that the night had come
upon her, and she began to fear that she had been
imprudent in allowing herself to be out so late—imprudent,
even had she succeeded in being alone. She went
direct to her own room, that, woman-like, she might
consult her own face as to the effects of the insult
she had received, and then having, as it were, steadied
herself, and prepared herself for the scene that was
to follow, she descended to the sitting-room and encountered
her friend. The friend was the first to speak;
and the reader will kindly remember that the friend
had ample reason for knowing what companion Lady Ongar
had been likely to meet upon the downs.
