“And what were these mighty wrongs, if—as you are trying to prove—he ever acknowledged her, a dancing gipsy beggar, a”——
“Hush!” said I, with a power that must have been imperative, “you shall not malign my mother.”
“Well,” she answered, waving her hand scornfully, “you are right. Her history cannot be publicly coupled with that of our house without leaving infamy upon a noble name.”
“Not her infamy, madam!”
“This is useless and impertinent, miss,” she cried, starting up fiercely; “you came for some purpose. What is it?”
“I came, if possible, to save the scandal of a law suit regarding the Clare earldom and estates. I would shield my father’s memory, and redress the wrongs of one whose fate is dearer than my own, at any sacrifice.”
“And how is this to be done unless you yield at once these preposterous claims?”
“Madam, your son!”
“Well, what of him?” she cried sharply, and with gleaming eyes.
“The succession will be his when, when”——