“Here they are, then, about twenty of them in all, and they are long letters. Take them and read them at your leisure. Now there is the dinner bell. You will join us, I hope.”
“Thank you, my dear madam; but I am just off a long journey, and hardly presentable in a sitting-room, much less at a dinner table,” said The O’Melaghlin, glancing down at his dusty garments.
“Oh, never mind. We are plain country people,” said Palma, with a smile; for having lived in a crowded city all her life, with the exception of one short season at “Lull’s,” she took pride in thinking of herself as a country woman.
“If you would like to go to a room to brush off a little, I should be pleased to show you the way,” said Stuart.
“Thank you, Wolfscliff, I think I would if it will not delay your dinner or spoil your soup. Now speak frankly. There should be candor among kinsmen.”
“It will spoil nothing,” put in Palma, knowing that Cleve could not answer that question, “so, Mr. Stuart, please show The O’Melaghlin to the oak room.”
Cleve turned with a bow to his guest and led the way out.
Palma rang the bell and gave orders that the soup should be kept back for fifteen minutes.
In due time The O’Melaghlin reappeared in the drawing-room, and the small party went in to dinner.
In the course of that meal Stuart said to Palma: