t which
had been in her mind for nearly a year. You will not imagine that Adela
had forgotten the letter from Mrs. Clay. The knowledge it brought
her made the turning-point of her life. No word on the subject passed
between her and Mutimer after the conversation which ended in her
fainting-fit. The letter he retained, and the course he had chosen made
it advisable that he should pay no heed to its request for assistance.
Adela remembered the address of the writer, and made a note of it, but
it was impossible to reply. Her state of mind after overhearing the
conversation between Richard and his sister was such that she durst not
even take the step of privately sending money, lest her husband should
hear of it and it should lead to further question. She felt that, hard
as it was to live with that secret, to hear Mutimer repeat his calumnies
would involve her in yet worse anguish, leading perhaps to terrible
things; for, on her return to the house that night, she suffered a
revelation of herself, which held her almost mute for the following
days. In her heart there fought passions of which she had not known
herself capable; above all a scorn so fierce, that had she but opened
her lips it must have uttered itself. That she lived down by the aid of
many strange expedients; but she formed a purpose, which seemed indeed
nothing less than a duty, to use the opportunity of her first visit to
London to seek for means of helping Emma Vine and her sister. Her long
illness had not weakened this resolve; but now that she was in London
the difficulties of carrying it out proved insuperable. She had always
imagined herself procuring the services of some agent, but what agent
was at hand? She might go herself to the address she had noted, but it
was to incur a danger too great even for the end in view. If Mutimer
heard of such a visit--and she had no means of assuring herself that
communication between him and those people did not still exist--how
would it affect him?

Adela's position would not suffer the risk of ever so slight a
difference between herself and her husband. She had come to fear him,
and now there was growing in her a yet graver fear of herself.

The condition of her health favoured remissness and postponement. An
hour of mental agitation left her with headache and a sense of bodily
feebleness. Emma Vine she felt in the end obliged to dismiss from her
thoughts; the difficulty concerning Alice she put off from day to day