The great love in my heart brought with it a gentle humility unknown to my nature before. I withdrew myself from Irving’s arm, and went up to his mother, blushing and with tears in my eyes.
“O, Lady Catherine, do not look so coldly on your son. Love me a little for his sake.”
She reached forth her hand, drew me toward her, and with a regal bend of the head, kissed my cheek.
“My son,” she said, resigning herself gracefully to the inevitable, “my son, you see that a mother can make sacrifices, even though her child may refuse them.”
Before Irving could express the gratitude that broke from his eyes at this unexpected concession, Lady Catherine had withdrawn from the room. Then I remembered how long my own stay had been, and hastened with breathless shame to the hackney coach that still waited for me at the door.
The day was beautiful, and I dismissed the carriage, resolved to walk awhile before entering our lodgings. As I turned a corner a gentleman passed me hurriedly, turned back, and spoke,
“Zana,” he cried—“Zana, I have met you at last; let me hope you are disposed to recognize me as a friend, at least.”
I was too happy for indignation, otherwise his audacity would have met with a sharp rebuke. Emboldened by this gentleness, he moved on at my side, pouring forth a torrent of low-voiced protestations. A spirit of mischief seized upon me, and I answered him with playful evasions. He evidently was quite ignorant that the secret of my legitimacy, doubtless so long known to himself, was in my possession.
“In a few days,” he said, impressively, “I shall be enabled to claim you before the whole world. I have already taken orders, and am now going to render Lady Clare my thanks for the Marston Court living.”
I felt a smile quivering on my lips; for the first time the consciousness that my inheritance had endowed me with power, came with force to my heart.