middle-aged woman in the hall, who looked as if she was waiting there expressly to attract notice.
'The housekeeper,' Mrs. Zant whispered. 'She is impudent enough to try to make acquaintance with you.'
This was exactly what the housekeeper was waiting in the hall to do.
'I hope you like our watering-place, sir,' she began. 'If I can be of service to you, pray command me. Any friend of this lady's has a claim on me—and you are an old friend, no doubt. I am only the housekeeper; but I presume to take a sincere interest in Mrs. Zant; and I am indeed glad to see you here. We none of us know—do we?—how soon we may want a friend. No offense, I hope? Thank you, sir. Good-morning.'
There was nothing in the woman's eyes which indicated an unsettled mind; nothing in the appearance of her lips which suggested habits of intoxication. That her strange outburst of familiarity proceeded from some strong motive seemed to be more than probable. Putting together what Mrs. Zant had already told him, and what he had himself observed, Mr. Rayburn suspected that the motive might be found in the housekeeper's jealousy of her master.
XI.
REFLECTING in the solitude of his own room, Mr. Rayburn felt that the one prudent course to take would be to persuade Mrs. Zant to leave St. Sallins. He tried to prepare her for this strong proceeding, when she came the next day to take Lucy out for a walk.
'If you still regret having forced yourself to accept your brother-in-law's invitation,' was all he ventured to say, 'don't forget that you are perfect mistress of your own actions. You have only to come to me at the hotel, and I will take you back to London by the next train.'
She positively refused to entertain the idea.
'I should be a thankless creature, indeed,' she said, 'if I accepted your proposal. Do you think I am ungrateful enough to involve you in a personal quarrel with John Zant? No! If I find myself forced to leave the house, I will go away alone.'
There was no moving her from this resolution. When she and Lucy had gone out together, Mr. Rayburn remained at the hotel, with a mind ill at ease. A man of readier mental resources might have felt at a loss how to act for the best, in the emergency that now confronted him. While he was still as far as ever from arriving at a decision, some person knocked at the door.
Had Mrs. Zant returned? He looked up as the door was opened, and saw to his astonishment—Mr. John Zant's housekeeper.
'Don't let me alarm you, sir,' the woman said. 'Mrs. Zant has been taken a little faint, at the door of our house. My master is attending to her.'
'Where is the child?' Mr. Rayburn asked.
'I was bringing her back to you, sir, when we met a lady and her little girl at the door of the hotel. They were on their way to the beach—and Miss Lucy begged hard to be allowed to go with them. The lady said the two children were playfellows, and she was sure you would not object.'
'The lady is quite right. Mrs. Zant's illness is not serious, I hope?'
'I think not, sir. But I should like to say something in her interests. May I? Thank you.' She advanced a step nearer to him, and spoke her next words in a whisper. 'Take Mrs. Zant away from this place, and lose no time in doing it.'
Mr. Rayburn was on his guard. He merely asked: 'Why?'
The housekeeper answered in a curiously indirect manner—partly in jest, as it seemed, and partly in earnest.
'When a man has lost his wife,' she said, 'there's some difference of opinion in Parliament, as I hear, whether he does right or wrong, if he marries his wife's sister. Wait a bit! I'm coming to the point. My master is one who has a long head on his shoulders; he sees consequences which escape the notice of people like me. In his way of thinking, if one man may marry his wife's sister, and no harm done, where's the objection if another man pays a compliment to the family, and marries his brother's widow? My master, if you please, is that other man. Take the widow away before she marries him.'
This was beyond endurance.
'You insult Mrs. Zant,' Mr. Rayburn answered, 'if you suppose that such a thing is possible!'
'Oh! I insult her, do I? Listen to me. One of three things will happen. She will be entrapped into consenting to it—or frightened into consenting to it—or drugged into consenting to it—'
Mr. Rayburn was too indignant to let her go on.
'You are talking nonsense,' he said. 'There can be no marriage; the law forbids it.'
'Are you one of the people who see no further than their noses?' she asked insolently. 'Won't the law take his money? Is he obliged to mention that he is related to her by marriage, when he buys the license?' She paused; her humor changed; she stamped furiously on the floor. The true motive that animated her showed itself in her next words, and warned Mr. Rayburn to grant a more favorable hearing than he had accorded to her yet. 'If you won't stop it,' she burst out, 'I will! If he marries anybody, he is bound to marry ME. Will you take her away? I ask you, for the last time—
The tone in which she made that final appeal to him had its effect.
'I will go back with you to John Zant's house,' he said, 'and judge for myself.'
She laid her hand on his arm:
'I must go first—or you may not be let in. Follow me in five minutes; and don't knock at the street door.'
On the point of leaving him, she abruptly returned.
'We have forgotten something,' she said. 'Suppose my master refuses to see you. His temper might get the better of him; he might make it so unpleasant for you that you would be obliged to go.'
