The day that succeeded the night on which the Marquis of Roxleydale and his two friends had visited the Circenses happened to be Saturday, and Violet Westford had to attend at the theatre in order to receive her salary for the week. This business was a long one, for the salaries were not paid until after the rehearsal of a new piece that was about to be produced, and Violet had to wait until all the principal actors and actresses had received their money. Thus it happened that Clara Westford was alone all that Saturday morning; alone and very sad; for when her children were away from her she made no effort to control her sadness. She gave free course to melancholy and regretful thoughts; mournful and bitter memories crowded upon her mind, and the unheeded tears rolled slowly down her wan cheeks, as she bent over the needlework, which took such time and labour to accomplish, and was so poorly paid for when done. She was seated at the little table near the window, when a man's footstep sounded on the stair without, and in the next instant the door was suddenly opened. Clara Westford started to her feet, her heart beating quickly. To whom could that unexpected footstep belong except Lionel, her bright, brave son, in whose presence there was always comfort? Her disappointment was very keen when, on turning towards the door, she found herself face to face with her bitterest foe, the man whom of all others she hated and feared. But the proud spirit of Sir John Ponsonby's daughter was not yet quenched. The widow drew herself to her full height, and turned to meet her persecutor, very pale, but self-possessed as her visitor himself. You here, Mr. Godwin! she said. I thought that in this place at least I should be secure from such an ...
The day that succeeded the night on which the Marquis of Roxleydale and his two friends had visited the Circenses happened to be Saturday, and Violet Westford had to attend at the theatre in order to receive her salary for the week. This business was a long one, for the salaries were not paid until after the rehearsal of a new piece that was about to be produced, and Violet had to wait until all the principal actors and actresses had received their money. Thus it happened that Clara Westford was alone all that Saturday morning; alone and very sad; for when her children were away from her she made no effort to control her sadness. She gave free course to melancholy and regretful thoughts; mournful and bitter memories crowded upon her mind, and the unheeded tears rolled slowly down her wan cheeks, as she bent over the needlework, which took such time and labour to accomplish, and was so poorly paid for when done. She was seated at the little table near the window, when a man's footstep sounded on the stair without, and in the next instant the door was suddenly opened. Clara Westford started to her feet, her heart beating quickly. To whom could that unexpected footstep belong except Lionel, her bright, brave son, in whose presence there was always comfort? Her disappointment was very keen when, on turning towards the door, she found herself face to face with her bitterest foe, the man whom of all others she hated and feared. But the proud spirit of Sir John Ponsonby's daughter was not yet quenched. The widow drew herself to her full height, and turned to meet her persecutor, very pale, but self-possessed as her visitor himself. You here, Mr. Godwin! she said. I thought that in this place at least I should be secure from such an ...