Lady Alice's movements were not without interest to Caspar Brooke, although Lesley did not suspect the fact. It was quite a surprise to her when he entered the library one day, with apparently no other object than that of saying abruptly,
"What is your mother going to do, Lesley?"
"To do?" said Lesley, flushing slightly and looking astonished.
"Yes"—impatiently. "Where is she going to live? What will become of her? Do you want to go to her? I wish to hear what you know about her arrangements."
He planted himself on the hearth-rug in what might be termed an aggressive attitude—really the expression of some embarrassment of feeling. It certainly seemed hard to him at that moment to have to ask his daughter these questions.
"I think," said Lesley, with downcast eyes, "that she is trying to find a house to suit her in Mayfair."
"Mayfair. Then half her income will go in rent and taxes. Will she live there alone?"
"Yes. At least—unless—until——"
"Until you join her: I understand. Will"—and then he made a long pause before continuing—"if she wants you to join her at once; and you wish to go, don't let this previous arrangement stand in the way. I shall not interfere."
His curtness, his abruptness, would once have startled and terrified Lesley. She had of late grown so much less afraid of him, that now she only lifted her eyes, with a proud, grieving look in them, and said,