“It is about Sir James Stanton—” she said in a slow changed voice.
“James Stanton!” Mrs Brodrick caught both her wrists. “He has left you something, Teresa! And I who thought it was bad news!”
“Yes, something.” She still spoke mechanically, and her grandmother was surprised at the effect upon her. The next moment she sprang up and flung open the bedroom door. “Sylvia, Sylvia, come here! Come and listen, come and tell me I’m really awake;” but before her sister could answer, she was back and standing before Mrs Brodrick, her hands clasped behind her, and her eyes beginning to shine. “Granny, did I ever see him?”
“James? Never. He was your father’s cousin. He knew your mother, too,” she added, with a keen glance and a smile of remembrance. “And now!”
“Yes, now,” repeated Teresa, catching Sylvia by the waist. “Now, guess.”
Mrs Brodrick hesitated.
“One mustn’t be greedy,” she said. “It would be very nice for you if it were five hundred pounds.”
“That is a good deal,” said Teresa, looking queerly at her.
“Yes, it is. Well, if it is only a hundred or two, it will be very useful. Teresa, what is it?”
For she saw that the young marchesa was trembling, and began to think that the matter must be more considerable than she had imagined.