Mollett of course turned round, and found himself confronted with the woman. They stared at each other for some moments, and then Mollett said, in a low dull voice, "Yes, she knows me; it was she that lived with her at Tallyho Lodge."
"You remember him now, Mrs. Jones; don't you?" said Mr. Prendergast.
For another moment or two Mrs. Jones stood silent; and then she acknowledged herself overcome, and felt that the world around her had become too much for her. "Yes," said she, slowly; "I remembers him," and then sinking into a chair near the door, she put her apron up to her eyes, and burst into tears.
"No doubt about that; she remembers me well enough," said Mollett, thinking that this was so much gained on his side. "But there ain't a doubt about the matter at all, Mr. Prendergast. You look here, and you'll see it all as plain as black and white." And Mr. Mollett dragged a large pocket-book from his coat, and took out of it certain documents, which he held before Mr. Prendergast's eyes, still keeping them in his own hand. "Oh, I'm all right; I am," said Mollett.
"Oh, you are, are you?" said the lawyer, just glancing at the paper, which he would not appear to heed. "I am glad you think so."
"If there were any doubt about it, she'd know," said he, pointing away up towards the body of the house. Both Mr. Prendergast and Mrs. Jones understood well who was that she to whom he alluded.
"You are satisfied at any rate, Mrs. Jones," said the lawyer. But Mrs. Jones had hidden her face in her apron, and would not look up. She could not understand why this friend of the family should push the matter so dreadfully against them. If he would rise from his chair and destroy that wretch who stood before them, then indeed he might be called a friend!
Mr. Prendergast had now betaken himself to the door, and was standing with his back to it, and with his hands in his trousers-pockets, close to the chair on which Mrs. Jones was sitting. He had resolved that he would get that woman's spoken evidence out of her; and he had gotten it. But now, what was he to do with her next?—with her or with the late Mr. Talbot of Tallyho Lodge? And having satisfied himself of that fact, which from the commencement he had never doubted, what could he best do to spare the poor lady who was so terribly implicated in this man's presence?
"Mrs. Jones," said he, standing over her, and gently touching her shoulder, "I am sorry to have pained you in this way; but it was necessary that we should know, without a doubt, who this man is,—and who he was. Truth is always the best, you know. So good a woman as you cannot but understand that."
"I suppose it is, sir,—I suppose it is," said Mrs. Jones, through her tears, now thoroughly humbled. The world was pretty nearly at an end, as far as she was concerned. Here, in this very house of Castle Richmond, in Sir Thomas's own room, was her ladyship's former husband, acknowledged as such! What further fall of the planet into broken fragments could terrify, or drive her from her course more thoroughly than this? Truth! yes, truth in the abstract, might be very good. But such a truth as this! how could any one ever say that that was good? Such was the working of her mind; but she took no trouble to express her thoughts.