"I thought she was," said Durham, remembering the Romany dialect used by the housekeeper, "but she doesn't look like a gipsy."
"Well," said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose again and taking a seat, "she's not a real gipsy, but I believe some tribe in the New Forest—the Lovels, I understand—picked her up, and looked after her. All I know of her dates from the time she came to Hurseton, with the gipsies. She was then a comely young woman, and I believe Walter Gore admired her."
"My father," said Bernard, coloring.
"I beg your pardon, my dear," said the old lady. "I can't say good of your father, and I won't say bad, so let me hold my tongue."
"No," said Durham, rather to the surprise of the others. "Now you have said so much, Miss Plantagenet, you must say all."
"All what?" demanded the old lady, aggressively.
"Well, you see, Mrs. Gilroy claims to have married Walter Gore."
"Then she's a liar," said Miss Berengaria, emphatically and vulgarly. "Why, Walter was married to your mother, Bernard, at that time."
"Are you sure?" he asked eagerly.
"Of course I am. I don't make any statements unless I am sure. It was after the marriage; for Sir Simon—I was friends with him then—consulted me about your father having married the Italian woman—begging your pardon again, Bernard. I then learned the date of the marriage and it was quite three years afterwards that Walter saw Mrs. Gilroy. I don't know what she called herself then. But she disappeared, and I understand from Sir Simon she married Walter under the impression he was a single man—drat the profligate!" added Miss Berengaria.