“Oh, well, before we begin to discuss your plans and Cara—by the way, a handsome young woman!—let me tell you all my news. The Dentons are pretty much as usual, and send you kind messages. You know that Frances is going to be married? I motored over to Sharsley to lunch, and inspect the presents,—including yours, and afterwards we walked up to the Court. My dear, it’s like a dead place! Positively, I expected to see a hearse at the door. The shutters closed, the avenue grass-grown, not a soul to be met or seen. I believe some of the best pictures and furniture have been carted away, and sold. Old Scrope heirlooms,—and the Scropes are frantic. Hugo’s racing comes expensive. He and Tom Slater have a string of useless animals, who, by all accounts, eat up thousands and thousands.”
“And where does he live?”
“He has the same rooms in Newmarket, and the house in town. Connie Rashleigh is often there, though she still holds on to her own flat, as, of course, she never knows when, and by whom, she may be deposed! Cara inherits your colouring and teeth, but she has her aunt’s figure, and her aunt’s laugh—yes, and her father’s jaw.”
As Letty was about to protest:
“Yes, my dear, and her aunt’s air of buoyant confidence. There is nothing undecided about Cara, and I can grasp the fact, that she has her mother under her thumb! Alas, poor Letty, you have merely changed your yoke!”
“Oh, dear Cousin Maude, you surely cannot judge already!”
Mrs. Hesketh gave a quick nod; she had been in the company of mother and daughter for several hours, and had made copious notes.
“Do you think Cara is going to be a comfort to you? and a compensation for all you have relinquished for her sake?”
“Yes, of course I do,” replied Letty; but her colour had risen, and her eyes no longer rested on her companion, but on the moonlit lake, and a cargo-barge that went drowsily by.
“Ah, that is good news!” said Mrs. Hesketh, but her sardonic tone belied her speech. “And so you are about to shift your sky at last—but why?”