"Oh! so your father told you about me, my dear. I thought he had long ago forgotten the existence of poor Flora Arkwright."
"Far from forgetting you," Audrey assured her aunt, "he said that he wished he had married you instead of mother."
The information did not seem to please Madame Coralie, for her thin lips tightened, and she gave vent to a short laugh. Then Audrey noted, as a further difference between the sisters, that the woman before her spoke in a hoarse and loud, domineering voice. Lady Branwin, on the other hand, had always talked softly, and possessed a musical utterance, which was one of the few poor charms she owned.
"So Joseph remembers me in that way, does he, my dear?" said Madame Coralie, clasping her hands. "Ha! if I hadn't been a fool I should have married him."
"Why didn't you?" asked Audrey, bluntly.
"I have stated the reason," said Madame Coralie, drily. "I was a fool. But I am bound to say in my own defence that I never believed Joseph would become so wealthy. He never struck me as particularly clever."
"Yet he must be, to have so much money."
"There I disagree with you, my dear--I can call you my dear in private, as you are my niece--but Joseph was always hard and grasping, and ever had an eye to the main chance. Well, he is rich, and has now got rid of his wife, so he can marry into the Peerage if he likes. I expect Dora is glad she is dead, now that she is on the other side of the grave. Joseph killed her."
"Killed her?" Audrey, with a sudden fear, turned deadly white.
"Oh, I don't mean to say that he strangled her," said Madame Coralie, hastily, "for he is too careful of his skin to risk hanging; but his neglect killed her. She was always a good and faithful wife to him, and he broke her heart."