“Ralph—a foolish one—just now. Bide the course of events.”
“I will not—if I can control them. Through this detestable mystery, I have been insulted, reviled—a wretch has had the hardihood, the turpitude, to brand both you and me—me as the base-born child, and you as the ignominious parent.”
“Who, who, who?”
“A pale-faced, handsome, short, smooth-worded villain, with a voice that I now recognise, for the first time—a coward—a swindler, that calls himself, undoubtedly among other aliases—”
“Stop, Ralph, in misery!” and, for the first time, she sat upright on her couch. “The crisis of a whole life is at hand—I must go through it, if I die on the spot—ring again for Miss Tremayne.”
The gentle and quiet lady was soon at Mrs Causand’s side. There was a little whispering passed between them, some medicines put on the small work-table near the head of the couch, and, finally, a tolerably large packet of papers. She then cautioned Mrs Causand most emphatically to keep herself tranquil, and, bowing to me slightly, glided out of the room.