Clara Hopgood

The next morning it still rained, a cold rain from the north-east, a

very disagreeable type of weather on the Fenmarket flats. Madge was

not awake until late, and when she caught sight of the grey sky and

saw her finery tumbled on the floor--no further use for it in any

shape save as rags--and the dirty crown, which she had brought

upstairs, lying on the heap, the leaves already fading, she felt

depressed and miserable. The breakfast was dull, and for the most

part all three were silent. Mrs Hopgood and Clara went away to begin

their housework, leaving Madge alone.

'Madge,' cried Mrs Hopgood, 'what am I to do with this thing? It is

of no use to preserve it; it is dead and covered with dirt.'

'Throw it down here.' She took it and rammed it into the fire. At that moment she saw

Frank pass. He was evidently about to knock, but she ran to the door

and opened it.

'I did not wish to keep you waiting in the wet.'

'I am just off but I could not help calling to see how you are.

What! burning your laurels, the testimony to your triumph?'

'Triumph! rather transitory; finishes in smoke,' and she pushed two

or three of the unburnt leaves amongst the ashes and covered them

over. He stooped down, picked up a leaf, smoothed it between his

fingers, and then raised his eyes. They met hers at that instant, as

she lifted them and looked in his face. They were near one another,

and his hands strayed towards hers till they touched. She did not

withdraw; he clasped the hand, she not resisting; in another moment

his arms were round her, his face was on hers, and he was swept into

self-forgetfulness. Suddenly the horn of the coach about to start

awoke him, and he murmured the line from one of his speeches of the

night before 'But by immortal Providence she's mine.'

She released herself a trifle, held her head back as if she desired

to survey him apart from her, so that the ecstasy of union might be

renewed, and then fell on his neck.

The horn once more sounded, she let him out silently, and he was off.

Mrs Hopgood and Clara presently came downstairs.

'Mr Palmer came in to bid you good-bye, but he heard the coach and

was obliged to rush away.'

'What a pity,' said Mrs Hopgood, 'that you did not call us.'

'I thought he would be able to stay longer.'

The lines which followed Frank's quotation came into her head, 'Sweet lord, you play me false.'