from my study window for the same reason. I am inclined to think that there was nothing more in it than that.
'My dear!' said Mr. Furnival, stepping a little back, and letting his hands fall to his sides. Lady Mason also took a step backwards, and then with considerable presence of mind recovered herself and put out her hand to greet Mrs. Furnival.
'How do you do, Lady Mason?' said Mrs. Furnival, without any presence of mind at all. 'I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you very well. I did hear that you were to be in town—shopping; but I did not for a moment expect the—gratification of finding you here.' And every word that the dear, good, heart-sore woman spoke, told the tale of her jealousy as plainly as though she had flown at Lady Mason's cap with all the bold demonstrative energy of Spitalfields or St. Giles.
'I came up on purpose to see Mr. Furnival about some unfortunate law business,' said Lady Mason.
'Oh, indeed! Your son Lucius did say—shopping.'
'Yes; I told him so. When a lady is unfortunate enough to be driven to a lawyer for advice, she does not wish to make it known. I should be very sorry if my dear boy were to guess that I had this new trouble; or, indeed, if any one were to know it. I am sure that I shall be as safe with you, dear Mrs. Furnival, as I am with your husband.' And she stepped up to the angry matron, looking earnestly into her face.
To a true tale of woman's sorrow Mrs. Furnival's heart could be as soft as snow under the noonday sun. Had Lady Mason gone to her and told her all her fears and all her troubles, sought counsel and aid from her, and appealed to her motherly feelings, Mrs. Furnival would have been urgent night and day in persuading her husband to take up the widow's case. She would have bade him work his very best without fee or reward, and would herself have shown Lady Mason the way to Old Square, Lincoln's Inn. She would have been discreet too, speaking no word of idle gossip to any one. When he, in their happy days, had told his legal secrets to her, she had never gossiped,—had never spoken an idle word concerning them. And she would have been constant to her friend, giving great consolation in the time of trouble, as one woman can console another. The thought that all this might be so did come across her for a moment, for there was innocence written in Lady Mason's eyes. But then she looked at her husband's face; and as she found no innocence there, her heart was again hardened. The woman's face could lie;—'the faces of such women are all lies,' Mrs. Furnival said to herself;—but in her presence his face had been compelled to speak the truth.
'Oh dear, no; I shall say nothing of course,' she said. 'I am quite sorry that I intruded. Mr. Furnival, as I happened to be in
