"That is what I call a very pathetic appeal, Cora. She is a widow, poor child! Not such a widow as you are, Cora Rothsay, with wealth, friends, and position! She is a widow, indeed! Homeless, friendless, penniless—about to be cast forth into the streets! My dear, I got this letter this morning. I answered it within an hour after its reception! I invited her to come here as our guest, immediately, and to remain as long as she should feel inclined to stay—certainly until we could settle upon some plan of life for her future. I sent a check to pay her traveling expenses to North End, where I shall send the carriage to meet her. You will, therefore, Cora, have a comfortable room prepared for Mrs. Stillwater. I think she may be with us as early as to-morrow evening," said the Iron King.
And he arose and strode out of the parlor, leaving his granddaughter confounded.
Rose Stillwater the widow of a year's standing! Rose Stillwater coming to Rockhold as the guest of her aged and widowed grandfather! What a condition of things! What would be the outcome of this event? Cora shrank from conjecturing.
She felt that there had been two factors in bringing about the situation: first, the death of her grandmother; second, the marriage of her Uncle Fabian. The field was thus left open for the operations of this scheming adventuress and siren.
Cora had been so dismayed at the communication of her grandfather that she had scarcely answered him with a word. But he had been too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts and plans to notice her silence and reserve.
He had expressed his wishes, given his orders, and gone out. That was all.
What could Cora do?
Nothing at all. Too well she knew the unbending nature of the Iron King to delude herself for a moment with the idea that any opposition, argument, or expostulation from her would have so much as a feather's weight with the despotic old man.
If he had asked Mrs. Stillwater to Rockhold under present circumstances, Mrs. Stillwater would come, and he would have her there just as long as he pleased.
Cora was at her wits' end. She resolved to write at once to her Uncle Fabian. Surely he must know the true character of this woman, and he must have broken off his very questionable acquaintance with her before marrying Violet Wood. Surely he would not allow his father to be so dangerously deceived in the person he had invited to his house—to the society of his granddaughter. He would unmask her, even though in doing so he should expose himself.