It was immediately after this fatiguing episode that Mr. Prentice made
his last urgent prayer to Mrs. Marsden. Complying with his request for
an interview, she had come again to the panelled room in Hill Street.
But on this occasion she chose a different chair, and sat with her back
to the windows and her face in shadow.
"You see for yourself," said Mr. Prentice, with culminating plainness:
"he is an unmitigated blackguard. Get rid of him."
"I can't."
"You can. Yates is still game--I mean, Yates has not forgotten anything.
Yates will swear to everything that she remembers.... So far as Yates
goes, her evidence may be all the better for the delay. It will be all
the more difficult to shake it after the lapse of time.... Of course we
shall be asked, 'Why have you sat down on your wrongs for so long?' But
we have our answer now. This is the answer. You put up with his
ill-usage and infidelities until he befouled your home. A disgraceful
affair with a servant girl under your own roof! That was the last
straw--and it has driven you to the Court, to ask for the relief to
which you have been entitled for years."
"Oh, no--impossible."
"I pledge you my word, we shan't fail. We shall pull it off to a
certainty."
"No, I can't do it. And even if we succeeded, it would be only a half
relief. Divorce wouldn't end the business partnership."
"No. But when once your marriage is dissolved, we shall be able to make
terms with him. Wipe him out as your husband, and he loses the
tremendous hold he has on you. Get rid of your incubus. Think what it
would mean to you. He would be gone--you would be alone again; able to
pull things together, work up the business, nurse it back to life. On my
honour, I think you are capable of restoring your fortunes even at this
late day."
But Mrs. Marsden only shook her head, while Mr. Prentice continued to
entreat her to act on his advice.
"Suppose you always have to go on paying him half of all you can make by
your industry? Never mind. What does it matter? You'll pay it to him at
a distance--you'll never have to see him--you will have swept him out of
your life. My dear, the years will roll off your back; you'll be able to
breathe, to _live_--you'll feel that you are your own self again."
"No--impossible."
"Yes. Leave it to me. I answer for everything, before and afterwards.
I'll manage my fine gentleman--I'll cut his claws so that he'll be a
very quiet sort of partner in the years to come. I'll work at it till I
drop--but I swear I'll put you on safe ground, if only you'll trust me
and let me tackle the job."
And Mr. Prentice, leaning forward in his chair, took her hand and
pressed it imploringly.
"You are what you have always been to me, Mr. Prentice,--the best, the
kindest of friends." She allowed him to retain her hand for a few
moments, and then gently withdrew it. "But it is difficult for me to
explain--so that you would understand me."
"I shall understand any explanation."
"I took him for better for worse. And once I promised him that I would
hold to him until he set me free." She paused, as if carefully putting
her thought into appropriate words. "It may come to it.... Yes, it is
what I hope for--that he himself may give me back my freedom."
"But how?"
"He might consent to a separation--without scandal, without publicity."
"Why should he do that? While you've a shot in the locker, he'll stick
to you."
Mr. Prentice's voice conveyed his sense of despair. She would not be
convinced. He got up, sat down again, and vigorously resumed his appeal.
"Can't you see now the force of what I have told you so often? He will
not only disgrace you, he will eat you up. It is what he is doing--has
almost done. And when you have let him squander your last farthing,
he'll desert you--but he won't desert you till then."
But Mrs. Marsden again shook her head, and once more fell back upon the
vagueness that baffles argument if it cannot refute it.
"No--dear Mr. Prentice, I feel that I couldn't make any move now. Life
is so complicated--there are difficulties on all sides--my hands are
tied.... Perhaps I will ask you for your aid--but not now--and not for a
divorce."
"But if you wait, no one will be able to aid you. The hour for aid will
have passed forever." And Mr. Prentice brought out all his eloquence in
vain. "Try to recover your old attitude of mind. Consider the thing as a
business woman. Tear away sentiment and feminine fancies. Make this
effort of mind--you would have been strong enough to do it a little
while ago,--and consider yourself and him as if you were different
people. Now--from the business point of view--and no sentiment! He is an
undeserving blackguard."
"No. I can't do anything now.... I _have_ considered it as a business
woman. I have looked at it from every point of view. Believe me, I must
go my own way."
This was the final appeal of Mr. Prentice. He said no more on the
subject then, or afterwards. He had shot his bolt.