“Then you will pardon me for saying that you do not understand Lady Gwendolyn. If impulsive, she is very generous, and rather sought to take the blame of your separation upon herself. I remember her very words: ‘You know I am a spoiled child, Mr. Large, and very difficult to please. I expected so much that I was sure to be disappointed, and, therefore, have no right to complain. Pray let us keep the affair as quiet as we can.’ I reminded her that her friends would demand some explanation of her conduct; but she assured me that she was perfectly independent in every way, and had no intention of consulting anybody. Of course, I knew nothing of her ladyship’s motives, and had no right to interfere. I am only surprised that she allowed me to say as much as I did.”
“Did she look ill, Mr. Large?”
“Extremely ill—so ill that I took the liberty of advising her to keep within reach of good medical advice.”
“And what did she say?” inquired Sir Lawrence eagerly.
“She said she had had a long journey, and a trying time mentally; but that she should, no doubt, be all right when she got into the country.”
“Got into the country?” repeated Sir Lawrence, welcoming the hint eagerly. “She did not mention Turoy, I suppose?”
“Yes, she did. She told me that her old nurse, Hannah, would not be able to take care of it any longer as her husband had obtained a good situation at Westhampstead, and, therefore, she should like the house let if I could get her a respectable tenant.”
“Should you consider me a respectable tenant?” inquired Sir Lawrence, with a faint, trembling smile.
Mr. Large seemed amused.
“Would you care to have the Grange?”