“That alters things,” Christian observed thoughtfully, with no sign of perturbation in his quiet voice. “Slinker was always good at surprises. I suppose hounds are probably some other chap’s, now?”
“You need not be afraid!” Mrs. Lyndesay broke in sharply. “He married beneath him—one of those people who do not exist except in the eyes of Government—but at least we are spared—that!”
“He married a horse-dealer’s daughter,” the lawyer explained hastily and uncomfortably—“three years ago—a horse-dealer’s daughter in Witham. The father has been dead some time, and since she left her husband she has been living with a married sister in Canada. Mr. Lyndesay did not offer us any explanation of his extraordinary—proceedings.”
“I used to know quite a human sort of horse-dealer in Witham,” said Christian. “Gave me rides when I was a youngster, and told me tales by the hour—an interesting character, in his way. And I remember he had an uncommonly nice daughter——” he checked apologetically—“it’s a very wild night.”
Deb laughed queerly, and stood up, and Mrs. Lyndesay rang and ordered the brougham.
The departing guest did not offer her hostess a hand.
“Good-bye,” she said. “You will be glad to say good-bye. You have never been kind to me, and you will be pleased to be rid of me. We might have been friends, perhaps, for Stanley’s sake, but it seems we are not to have the chance. You need not be afraid that I shall ever trouble you again, though I shall not go away, as no doubt you expect. The county must get used to seeing me about as usual, and in time you will forget that I still live at your gates.”
“Be thankful things are no worse!” Mrs. Lyndesay’s voice, grown suddenly strident, arrested her at the door. “Be thankful you have been spared what you deserve—you who would have married my son for his property and his position, grasping at him with both hands, though caring no more for him than for his shadow on the wall!”
After the shocked hush, lawyer and doctor stood up simultaneously, saying “Madam!” in the same breath. It was a poor attempt, and she ignored it.
“You never cared! He was Lyndesay of Crump to you—no more. Lyndesay of Crump, with his money and his name and his fine old place. The man was nothing to you—you miserable parasite on a proud old house! You would have married Christian here on the same terms—isn’t that true? Answer me! Can you deny it?”