The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

June had waited for her chance, scanning the duller columns of the

journals, morning and evening with an assiduity which at first

puzzled old Jolyon; and when her chance came, she took it with all the

promptitude and resolute tenacity of her character.

She will always remember best in her life that morning when at last she

saw amongst the reliable Cause List of the Times newspaper, under the

heading of Court XIII, Mr. Justice Bentham, the case of Forsyte v.

Bosinney.

Like a gambler who stakes his last piece of money, she had prepared to

hazard her all upon this throw; it was not her nature to contemplate

defeat. How, unless with the instinct of a woman in love, she knew that

Bosinney's discomfiture in this action was assured, cannot be told--on

this assumption, however, she laid her plans, as upon a certainty.

Half past eleven found her at watch in the gallery of Court XIII.,

and there she remained till the case of Forsyte v. Bosinney was over.

Bosinney's absence did not disquiet her; she had felt instinctively that

he would not defend himself. At the end of the judgment she hastened

down, and took a cab to his rooms.

She passed the open street-door and the offices on the three lower

floors without attracting notice; not till she reached the top did her

difficulties begin.

Her ring was not answered; she had now to make up her mind whether she

would go down and ask the caretaker in the basement to let her in to

await Mr. Bosinney's return, or remain patiently outside the door,

trusting that no one would, come up. She decided on the latter course.

A quarter of an hour had passed in freezing vigil on the landing, before

it occurred to her that Bosinney had been used to leave the key of

his rooms under the door-mat. She looked and found it there. For some

minutes she could not decide to make use of it; at last she let herself

in and left the door open that anyone who came might see she was there

on business.

This was not the same June who had paid the trembling visit five

months ago; those months of suffering and restraint had made her less

sensitive; she had dwelt on this visit so long, with such minuteness,

that its terrors were discounted beforehand. She was not there to fail

this time, for if she failed no one could help her.

Like some mother beast on the watch over her young, her little quick

figure never stood still in that room, but wandered from wall to wall,

from window to door, fingering now one thing, now another. There was

dust everywhere, the room could not have been cleaned for weeks, and

June, quick to catch at anything that should buoy up her hope, saw in

it a sign that he had been obliged, for economy's sake, to give up his

servant.