"I did not suppose you had, for she and Mrs. Poinsett left very hurriedly last night."
"Indeed! For where?"
"Delhi, at first. The fact is, she joins her husband there—a friend of my own, by the way. A telegram from him hastened her going, and one of my reasons for calling was to give you her adieux, and all sorts of kind messages. I also left a letter from her to the Misses Hosmer at your rooms."
"A letter for us—how charming!" cried Faith, while Hope nodded vigorously.
But the captain, with a glance at his daughters, said lightly,
"And nothing for me?"
"I think she hoped to see you, Captain, but doubtless her letter explains everything. Did you know the old Madam is dead?"
"No! You don't say so. And is that why Lord Duncan—"
The Traveler shook his head. "I am a good deal in the dark about the particulars, but I learned something of the drift of affairs from the husband's own lips. I know he repented deeply of yielding such implicit obedience to that proud old woman's wishes. But she ruled all of her kin with a rod of iron. And to such a nature as Lady Moreham's the constant restraint, the sarcastic comments, and the vigilant training to which she was subjected, must have been terribly irksome. I can at least vaguely understand it, and I have her permission to ask you for her side of the affair."
"Yes," assented the captain. "Well, well I am glad the embargo is removed. It was that separation that the old dame insisted upon, which broke her heart. It was bad enough to be so completely cut off from all her own family, but when her husband, himself, consented that she should be banished for a season, to be properly molded and made over by Mrs. Poinsett, while he traveled in foreign lands, it was the last hold. She never could grip her anchor to any faith in God or man, for a time, and I think she hated everybody—at any rate everybody in the aristocracy."