"Then you might have been killed yourself!—and what then?"
"That was a contingency I was quite prepared for, of course. What then?—I should have done my duty."
"Don't say 'duty,' Roden," interposed Mrs. Digby, very gently and gravely.
"My dear Lily, the word has no arbitrary sense; we all interpret it to suit our own views. It was my idea of duty."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy again. "It is a dreadful story. And did he leave any family?"
"I would rather not pursue the subject, Mrs. Hardy—if you have no objection."
"I wonder you are not afraid to go to bed," Mrs. Hale persisted, undeterred by the darkness of his face. "The ghost of that poor wretch would haunt me night and day. I should never know what it was to sleep in peace."
Rachel listened to this fragment of a conversation, which had evidently been going on for some time; and her heart grew cold within her. Mr. Dalrymple happened to turn his head, and saw her looking at him with her innocent young face scared and pale; and he was almost as much shocked as she. A swift change in himself—a straightening of his powerful, tall frame, and a flash of angry surprise and pain in his imperious eyes—aroused a general attention to her presence.
"You here, my dear?" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy, much discomposed by the circumstance. "That is the worst of these irregular shaped rooms—with so many doors and corners, one never sees people go out and come in."
"How is baby?" inquired Mrs. Thornley eagerly, thankful for the diversion. "Is he sleeping nicely?"