Her
excellent parents had built one of the first new houses in what had then
been the pretty, old-fashioned village of Summerfield, some fifteen
miles from London. There she had been born; there she had spent
delightful years at the big convent school over the hill; there she had
grown up into a singularly pretty girl; and there, finally--it had
seemed quite final to Agnes--she had met the clever, fascinating young
lawyer, Frank Barlow. Frank had soon become the lover all her girl friends had envied her, and
then the husband who was still--so he was fond of saying and of proving
in a dozen dear little daily ways--as much in love with her as on the
day they were married. They lived in a charming house called The Haven,
and they were the proud parents of a fine little boy, named Francis
after his father, who never had any of the tiresome ailments which
afflict other people's children. But strange, dreadful things do happen--not often, of course, but just
now and again--even in this delightful world! So thought Agnes Barlow on
this pleasant May afternoon; for, as she walked to church, this pretty,
happy, good woman found her thoughts dwelling uncomfortably on another
woman, her sometime intimate friend and contemporary, who was neither
good nor happy. This was Teresa Maldo, the lovely half-Spanish girl who had been her
favourite schoolmate at the convent over the hill. Poor, foolish, unhappy, wicked Teresa! Only ten days ago Teresa had done
a thing so extraordinary, so awful, so unprecedented, that Agnes Barlow
had thought of little else ever since. Teresa Maldo had eloped, gone
right away from her home and her husband, and with a married man! Teresa and Agnes were the same age; they had had the same upbringing;
they were both--in a very different way, however--beautiful, and they
had each been married, six years before, on the same day of the month. But how different had been their subsequent fates! Teresa had at once discovered that her husband drank. But she loved him,
and for a while it seemed as if marriage would reform Maldo. Unfortunately, this better state of things did not last: he again began
to drink: and the matrons of Summerfield soon had reason to shake their
heads over the way Teresa Maldo went on. Men, you see, were so sorry for this lovely young woman, blessed (or
cursed) with what old-fashioned folk call "the come-hither eye," that
they made it their business to console her for such a worthless husband
as was Maldo. No wonder Teresa and Agnes drifted apart; no wonder Frank
Barlow soon forbade his spotless Agnes to accept Mrs. Maldo's
invitations. And Agnes knew that her dear Frank was right; she had never
much enjoyed her visits to Teresa's house. But an odd thing had happened about a fortnight ago. And it was to this
odd happening that Agnes's mind persistently recurred each time she
found herself alone. About three days before Teresa Maldo had done the mad and wicked thing
of which all Summerfield was still talking, she had paid a long call on
Agnes Barlow. The unwelcome guest had stayed a very long time; she had talked, as she
generally did talk now, wildly and rather strangely; and Agnes, looking
back, was glad to remember that no one else had come in while her old
schoolfellow was there. When, at last, Teresa Maldo had made up her mind to go (luckily, some
minutes before Frank was due home from town), Agnes accompanied her to
the gate of The Haven, and there the other had turned round and made
such odd remarks. "I came to tell you something!" she had exclaimed. "But, now that I see
you looking so happy, so pretty, and--forgive me for saying so,
Agnes--so horribly good, I feel that I can't tell you! But, Agnes,
whatever happens, you must pity, and--and, if you can, understand me." It was now painfully clear to Agnes Barlow that Teresa had come that day
intending to tell her once devoted friend of the wicked thing she meant
to do; and more than once pretty and good Mrs. Barlow had asked herself
uneasily whether she could have done anything to stop Teresa on her
downward course. But no; Agnes felt her conscience clear. How would it have been possible
for her even to discuss with Teresa so shameful a possibility as that of
a woman leaving her husband with another man? Agnes thought of the two sinners with a touch of fascinated curiosity. They were said to be in Paris, and Teresa was probably having a very
good time--a wildly amusing, exciting time. She even told herself, did this pretty, happy, fortunate young married
woman, that it was strange, and not very fair, that vice and pleasure
should always go together! It was just a little irritating to know that
Teresa would never again be troubled by the kind of worries that played
quite an important part in Agnes's own blameless life. Never again, for
instance, would Teresa's cook give her notice, as Agnes's cook had given
her notice that morning. It was about that matter she wished to see
Father Ferguson, for it was through the priest she had heard of the
impertinent Irish girl who cooked so well, but who had such an
independent manner, and who would _not_ wear a cap! Yes, it certainly seemed unfair that Teresa would now be rid of all
domestic worries--nay, more, that the woman who had sinned would live in
luxurious hotels, motoring and shopping all day, going to the theatre or
to a music-hall each night. At last, however, Agnes dismissed Teresa Maldo from her mind. She knew
that it is not healthy to dwell overmuch on such people and their
doings. The few acquaintances Mrs. Barlow met on her way smiled and nodded, but,
as she was walking rather quickly, no one tried to stop her. She had
chosen the back way to the church because it was the prettiest way, and
also because it would take her by a house where a friend of hers was
living in lodgings. And suddenly the very friend in question--his name was Ferrier--came out
of his lodgings. He had a tall, slight, active figure; he was dressed in
a blue serge suit, and, though it was still early spring, he wore a
straw hat. Agnes smiled a little inward smile. She was, as we already know, a very
good as well as a happy woman. But a woman as pretty as was Agnes Barlow
meets with frequent pleasant occasions of withstanding temptation, of
which those about her, especially her dear parents and her kind husband,
are often curiously unknowing. And the tall, well-set-up masculine
figure now hurrying toward her with such eager steps played a
considerable part in Agnes's life, if only as constantly providing her
with occasions of acquiring merit. Agnes knew very well--even the least imaginative woman is always acutely
conscious of such a fact--that, had she not been a prudent and a
ladylike as well as (of course) a very good woman, this clever,
agreeable, interesting young man would have made love to her. As it was,
he (of course) did nothing of the kind.