“Ah;—that I don’t know. That he has never told me. But she has had the wickedness to say—oh—such things of Reginald. I knew all that before;—but that she should repeat them now is terrible. I suppose she wanted it for some of her own people. But it was so horrible you know—when he was so ill! Then he said that he should send for me, so that what is left of the family might be together. After that she went away in anger. Mrs. Hopkins says that she did not even see him the morning she left Bragton.”
“She was always high-tempered,” said Mary.
“And dictatorial beyond measure. She nearly broke my poor dear father’s heart. And then she left the house because he would not shut his doors against Reginald’s mother. And now I hardly know what I am to do here, or what I must say to this young lady when she comes tomorrow.”
“Is she coming alone?”
“We don’t know. She has a mother, Lady Augustus Trefoil—but whether Lady Augustus will accompany her daughter we have not heard. Reginald says certainly not, or they would have told us so. You have seen Reginald?”
“No, Lady Ushant.”
“You must see him. He is here now. Think what a difference it will make to him.”
“But Lady Ushant—is he so bad?”
“Dr. Fanning almost says that there is no hope. This poor young woman that is coming;—what am I to say to her? He has made his will. That was done before I came. I don’t know why he shouldn’t have sent for your father, but he had a gentleman down from town. I suppose he will leave her something; but it is a great thing that Bragton should remain in the family. Oh dear, oh dear—if anyone but a Morton were to be here it would break my heart. Reginald is the only one left now of the old branch. He’s getting old and he ought to marry. It is so serious when there’s an old family property.”
“I suppose he will—only—”
“Yes; exactly. One can’t even think about it while this poor young man is lying so ill. Mrs. Morton has been almost like his mother, and has lived upon the Bragton property—absolutely lived upon it—and now she is away from him because he chooses to do what he likes with his own. Is it not awful? And she would not put her foot in the house if she knew that Reginald was here. She told Mrs. Hopkins as much, and she said that she wouldn’t so much as write a line to me. Poor fellow; he wrote it himself. And now he thinks so much about it. When Dr. Fanning went back to London yesterday I think he took some message to her.”
Mary remained there till lunch was announced but refused to go down into the parlour, urging that she was expected home for dinner. “And there is no chance for Mr. Twentyman?” asked Lady Ushant. Mary shook her head. “Poor man! I do feel sorry for him as everybody speaks so well of him. Of course, my dear, I have nothing to say about it. I don’t think girls should ever be in a hurry to marry, and if you can’t love him—”
“Dear Lady Ushant, it is quite settled.”
“Poor young man! But you must go and see Reginald.” Then she was taken into the library and did see Reginald. Were she to avoid him—specially—she would tell her tale almost as plainly as though she were to run after him. He greeted her kindly, almost affectionately, expressing his extreme regret that his visit to Cheltenham should have been postponed and a hope that she would be much at Bragton. “The distance is so great, Reginald,” said Lady Ushant.
“I can drive her over. It is a long walk, and I had made up my mind to get Runciman’s little phaeton. I shall order it for tomorrow if Miss Masters will come.” But Miss Masters would not agree to this. She would walk over again some day as she liked the walk, but no doubt she would only be in the way if she were to come often.
“I have told her about Miss Trefoil,” said Lady Ushant. “You know, my dear, I look upon you almost as one of ourselves because you lived here so long. But perhaps you had better postpone coming again till she has gone.”
“Certainly, Lady Ushant.”
“It might be difficult to explain. I don’t suppose she will stay long. Perhaps she will go back the same day. I am sure I shan’t know what to say to her. But when anything is fixed I will send you in word by the postman.”
Reginald would have walked back with her across the bridge but that he had promised to go to his cousin immediately after lunch. As it was he offered to accompany her a part of the way, but was stopped by his aunt, greatly to Mary’s comfort. He was now more beyond her reach than ever—more utterly removed from her. He would probably become Squire of Bragton, and she, in her earliest days, had heard the late Squire spoken of as though he were one of the potentates of the earth. She had never thought it possible; but now it was less possible than ever. There was something in his manner to her almost protective, almost fatherly—as though he had some authority over her. Lady Ushant had authority once, but he had none. In every tone of his voice she felt that she heard an expression of interest in her welfare—but it was the interest which a grown-up person takes in a child, or a superior in an inferior. Of course he was her superior, but yet the tone of his voice was distasteful to her. As she walked back to Dillsborough she told herself that she would not go again to Bragton without assuring herself that he was not there.
When she reached home many questions were asked of
