One month after the death of Sir Joseph and his wife at Weed-on-the-Sands, Ralph was talking to his fairy godmother in her boudoir. He was dressed for a journey, and Lady Sanby was saying a few last words to him. Audrey was yet in her bedroom, making final preparations for departure. Since the occurrence of the tragedy she had been staying with Lady Sanby along with her husband, and the young couple had only waited for all things to be settled to start on a voyage to Australia. Lady Sanby was expressing now, as she had expressed before, her approval of the trip.
"I think you are very wise, my dear boy," she said, leaning back in her comfortable chair. "A journey round the world will do Audrey endless good."
"Audrey?" said Shawe, with a smile. "Colonel Ilse will call her Elsie."
"Well, that is natural, since it was her mother's name. The Colonel seems to be devoted to the memory of his wife. Had she lived, he would not have worshipped her so much."
"Grannie, that is cynical. Some men can remain lovers always. I am sure that I shall always worship Audrey."
"Well," said Lady Sanby, with a charming smile, "in your case there is much excuse. You and Audrey--Elsie--oh, dear me, how puzzling it is for her to have two names!--but you have come through so much trouble in company that you understand one another better than most married people, and anxiety has drawn you together. Natural--very, very natural."
"Poor Audrey! She has had a very unhappy time lately," said the young man, gravely; "and, indeed, all her life she has had trouble, more or less. Sir Joseph never cared for her, you know."
"Oh, that man never cared for anyone save himself," said Lady Sanby, tartly. "He was a bear--a clever bear, I admit, but still a bear. I suppose that one should not speak evil of the dead. All the same--well, I shall say no more."
"Let us speak of Sir Joseph as kindly as we can," observed Shawe, quietly, "for, after all, he has left Audrey two thousand a year."
"Out of an estate worth a million or two. It isn't much."