“Very near, I am told, Lady.”
“And he wist it?”
“He wist it.”
Lady Basset seemed for a moment to have forgotten everything but the one.
“Lead on,” she said. “I will go to her—poor Mother! I can scarce remember her; I was so young when taken from her. But I think she loved me once. I will go, though no other soul on earth keep me company.”
“Lady,” said Godfrey, saying the exact reverse of truth, “I do right heartily trust your Lord shall not let you therein.”
“What matter?” she said. “If the Devil and all his angels stood in the way, I would go to my dying mother.”
She left the room for a minute, and to Godfrey’s dismay came back attired for her journey, as if she meant to set out there and then.
“But, Lady!” he expostulated.
“You need not tarry for me,” she said, calmly. “I can find the way, and I have sent word to bid mine horses.”