One day, when he had been taunting thus longer and more bitterly than usual, she was goaded into making an incautious reply.
‘The cup is nearly full to the brim, Rupert. Your time is fast drawing to a close.’
‘What new craze is this, Lady Farrington?’ he said, laughing scornfully, but with a black look on his face.
Sir Rupert’s was a hard dark face, with full eyes rather prominent, and a long, drooping, black moustache. When he looked black it was not a pleasant face to see.
‘It is nothing new, Rupert. I have waited patiently, hopefully. I thought the end would never come. It is near at hand now, although the consummation has been long delayed.’
‘Your ladyship’s language is, as usual, clear and perspicuous, yet you will forgive me if I ask you to explain.’
‘Listen,’ she said, as she laid her hand upon his arm, and hissed out her words slowly one by one. ‘Within a few short months, nay weeks, whenever I choose, I can produce the rightful heir of the Farringtons; and he shall come to his own.’
‘This is mere rhapsody, mere raving. You cannot touch me, you know that.’
‘I can, ay, and I will, miserable fool! You have not the shadow of a claim to the title and estates. My grandson, Herbert’s son, lives, and you must make way for him.’