When they were again in the drawing-room, the ladies divided into little knots according to their tastes and degrees of intimacy. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was seated in one of the windows; Margaret at a stand near her, looking over some prints; Harriet was discussing, with Miss Campbell and Lady James Deacon, the French vaudeville they meant to act.
Lady Raymond, whose feelings, though not very deep, were kindly, seated herself beside Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"We met a very old friend of yours to-day, quite unexpectedly," she said in a low voice.
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with great interest. "Was it Mr. Haveloc? Is he at Tynebrook?"
"He is just arrived," said Lucy, "and he dines with us to-morrow. I thought you would like to know."
"Thank you; I shall be truly glad to see him;" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with a sigh.
"I know it all," said Lucy in a sympathising tone. "Raymond told me he was engaged to my poor cousin." For Lady Raymond having adopted Mrs. Fitzpatrick to that degree of relationship, extended the kindred to her lost daughter.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was truth itself; there was no occasion to enter into detail; but she could not avoid correcting an erroneous statement of facts.
"He is a very intimate and tried friend of mine," she said; "but he was not engaged, nor even attached to my daughter in the common sense of the word. He did not form our acquaintance until after Aveline had too clearly shown a tendency to the complaint which destroyed her. There could have been no thought of marriage between them; but being in my neighbourhood, during the latter part of her illness, he paid me such frequent visits, that, had there been any gossip in that solitary place, I dare say it would have ascribed such a reason for his conduct. I am sure he was like a son to me, at a time when I was deeply in need of support. And it is possible that under other circumstances, if his heart was disengaged, of which I am entirely ignorant, the regard and respect that he felt for my daughter might have ripened into a permanent attachment."
"Of course it would; it is just the same thing. How melancholy!" said Lucy, with the usual amount of pity in her voice. "And so after all, my dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick, you are to be the future mistress of Tynebrook."