What new occurrence is it that makes this tranquil old woman tremble so? Far happier than her Lady, as her Lady has often thought, why does she falter in this manner and look at her with such strange mistrust?
“What is the matter? Sit down and take your breath.”
“Oh, my Lady, my Lady. I have found my son—my youngest, who went away for a soldier so long ago. And he is in prison.”
“For debt?”
“Oh, no, my Lady; I would have paid any debt, and joyful.”
“For what is he in prison then?”
“Charged with a murder, my Lady, of which he is as innocent as—as I am. Accused of the murder of Mr. Tulkinghorn.”
What does she mean by this look and this imploring gesture? Why does she come so close? What is the letter that she holds?
“Lady Dedlock, my dear Lady, my good Lady, my kind Lady! You must have a heart to feel for me, you must have a heart to forgive me. I was in this family before you were born. I am devoted to it. But think of my dear son wrongfully accused.”
“I do not accuse him.”