“The likeness may be accidental. Such things do happen. Just think of the horror of the present Lady Mulgrave to have a girl less refined than her own kitchen-maid thrust into her intimate society—in fact, bound to accept and chaperone the stranger as her daughter! And as to that story of a baby changed at nurse, I don’t quite believe that; it sounds too much like a shilling shocker. Your man Usher is, no doubt, a romantic old bachelor; he has been captivated by a pretty girl—I can see he has—and found a mare’s nest. If I were you, I should do nothing hastily; in fact, I’m not sure that I should do anything at all.”
“Max, I’m amazed to hear you talk in this cold-blooded fashion.”
“Cold-blooded! No, but prudent and far-seeing, my dear fellow. Do you realise the results of bringing over this Irish girl? She will be Baroness of Marchlyde in her own right. She will inherit a certain amount of the family property—she, an uncouth, raw, country girl! You could do nothing with her. Of course her character is formed by now. She will probably make your present quiet life most sensational and wretched. She is happy where she is—you are happy where you are.”
“No, Max, you know very well that I have never been happy since her mother left me. But oh! if fortune were to give me back Joseline in our daughter, I’d ask no more.”
“Then what do you propose to do?” inquired his listener, in a sharper key.
“Return at once to the castle, get a few things put together, and leave by the six o’clock from the junction. I’ll go alone, and not take my man, and you will make my excuses to every one, and say that I was called away by important business.”
“All right—though in my opinion it’s all wrong. Shall you tell Lady Mulgrave and Elgitha?”
“Only my wife just yet.”
“If you are wise, you will wait.”
“Wait! For what? If this girl is my daughter, I shall bring her back with me.”