“But she was at her daughter’s house last night!”
“Indeed! Then why did you not speak to her yourself?”
Lauriston was disconcerted. The manner and voice of the old lawyer expressed such bland surprise, that he began to think he had discovered a mare’s nest, and answered in a far less bold tone.
“I saw a lady whom I believed to be the Countess. I may have been mistaken—”
“You must have been mistaken,” said the lawyer imperturbably. “The Countess di Valdestillas is not a person whose individuality admits of doubt. I will write to her, inform her of your visit, tell her that you would prefer to communicate directly with her, and ask her if she will authorise us to give you her address. We are forced to take this course, as, the Countess’s business affairs being all in our hands, we are empowered to sift all her correspondence from England, that nothing but what is of real importance should come to her hands. The Countess has a dash of Eastern blood, like her daughter, and is, well, shall I say—not madly energetic.”
There was nothing for Lauriston to do but to acquiesce in this arrangement and to take his leave, scarcely yet knowing whether he was satisfied or dissatisfied with his interview. As he passed out, however, condescended to by the senior, made much of by the junior partner as before, a clerk took in a telegram to the former. Lauriston had hardly gone two steps from the door of the outer office, when he heard the soft voice of the old gentleman calling to him from the door of his private room. He turned back, and with some appearance of mystery, and a rather less condescending tone than before, Mr. Angelo ushered him in, and offered him a chair before uttering a word.
“I thought I should like to say a few words to you in my private capacity, Mr. Lauriston,” said he, when he had softly closed the door. “As a lawyer, speaking in the presence of my partner, as a member of the firm, I may have seemed to you somewhat dry and unsympathetic; as a man, believe me, I should be glad to further an alliance between a member of such an honourable family as yours, and a young lady in whose welfare I take an interest.”
Lauriston bowed in acknowledgment, with the conviction that it was the telegram he had just received which had produced such a softening effect on Mr. Angelo. He hastened to take advantage of it.
“You are very kind, sir. I love Nouna with all my heart, and my dearest wish is to make her my wife. But I should be glad if you would answer one question. The answer you give will make no difference to my course of action; but it is right and necessary that I should understand Nouna’s position. Am I right in supposing, as circumstances suggest, that Madame di Valdestillas had a secret in her past life, that—Nouna’s father was not her husband?”
Mr. Angelo’s eyes wandered round the room in a reflective manner.