"I know Mrs. Speed quite well," Lady Dashwood replied. "Her father was a tenant on the estate many years ago. And I have heard all about the misfortune. In fact, I was in London yesterday, and called upon Mrs. Speed, who had written to me. What is the matter?"
"A thorn from one of the roses," Speed said in some confusion, "in my finger."
He was staggered at the information delivered in Lady Dashwood's quiet, level voice. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she withheld this fact from him? Perhaps she had forgotten it in the agitation of the startling disclosures of the morning. But Speed took fresh heart of grace from the news. That Lady Dashwood was not talking at him he felt certain; her voice was too matter of fact for that.
"That's a strange thing," Speed continued to say in a fairly steady voice. "I did not know it before. Let me get the roses for you from the top of the tree, they are so much finer. Have you seen anything of Ralph Darnley lately?"
"Not for a day or two," Lady Dashwood replied. "He has been in London, but I believe that he is coming back some time today, and I should not be surprised if he came over here later."
As a matter of fact Ralph put in an appearance before the basket of roses was filled. If the suspicions of Speed had been rocked to sleep, they were awakened now, when he saw the way in which Lady Dashwood smiled at the newcomer. There was real affection in her glance; the pressure of her hand was warm and clinging.
"So you have come back again," she said, "I have quite missed you. And I have felt so lonely all day. Won't you take pity on me and dine with me tonight?"
Ralph expressed his gratification at the request. There was no fault to find with his manner towards Speed. The latter was puzzled and worried.
"You have not dined with me yet," he said. "What do you say to coming in tomorrow at half-past seven? Positively, I won't take a refusal."
Ralph hesitated just for a moment. Perhaps a feeling of curiosity moved him, for he inclined his head presently with a smile.