Added to these causes of dislike, the Baroness was, like many
wealthier people, excessively close in her dealings with working
folk, haggling over a few cents or a few moments of wasted time,
while she was generosity itself in association with her equals.
Mrs Connor, therefore, felt both pity and sympathy for Miss Dumont,
whose position in the Palace she knew to be a difficult one; and when
Preston Cheney came upon the scene the romantic mind of the motherly
Irishwoman fashioned a future for the young couple which would have
done credit to the pen of a Mrs Southworth.
Mr Cheney always had a kind word for the laundress, and a tip as
well; and when Mrs Connor's dream of seeing him act the part of the
Prince and Berene the Cinderella of a modern fairy story, ended in
the disappearance of Miss Dumont and the marriage of Mr Cheney to
Mabel Lawrence, the unhappy wash-lady mourned unceasingly.
Ten years of hard, unremitting toil and rigid economy passed away
before Mrs Connor could realise her ambition of becoming a landlady
in the purchase of a small house which contained but four rooms,
three of which were rented to lodgers. The increase in the value of
her property during the next five years, left the fortunate
speculator with a fine profit when she sold her house at the end of
that time, and rented a larger one; and as she was an excellent
financier, it was not strange that, at the time Joy Irving appeared
on the scene, "Mrs Connor's apartments" were as well and favourably
known in Beryngford, if not as distinctly fashionable, as the Palace
had been more than twenty years ago.
So it was under the roof of her mother's devoted and faithful mourner
that the unhappy young orphan had found a home when she came to hide
herself away from all who had ever known her.
The landlady experienced the same haunting sensation of something
past and gone when she looked on the girl's beautiful face, which had
so puzzled the Baroness; a something which drew and attracted the
warm heart of the Irishwoman, as the magnet draws the steel. Time
and experience had taught Mrs Connor to be discreet in her treatment
of her tenants; to curb her curiosity and control her inclination to
sociability. But in the case of Miss Irving she had found it
impossible to refrain from sundry kindly acts which were not included
in the terms of the contract. Certain savoury dishes found their way
mysteriously to Miss Irving's menage, and flowers appeared in her
room as if by magic, and in various other ways the good heart and
intentions of Mrs Connor were unobtrusively expressed toward her
favourite tenant. Joy had taken a suite of four rooms, where, with
her maid, she lived in modest comfort and complete retirement from
the social world of Beryngford, save as the close connection of the
church with Beryngford society rendered her, in the position of
organist, a participant in many of the social features of the town.
While Joy was in the midst of her preparations for departure, Mrs
Connor made her appearance with swollen eyes and red, blistered face.