There were dead and gone Dashwoods smiling, or simpering, or frowning from the walls--soldiers and statesmen, scholars, famous beauties, and not one of them had ever seen the tainting of the family name. It was left to Sir George to submit tamely to that. Mary could see that his eyes were still wet.
"Something must be done," she said. "Are there no jewels that one could turn into cash? Strange that I have never given a thought before to the family jewels! But surely in a family like ours there must be historic diamonds and the like. Did I not hear once from somebody that the Dashwood emeralds are unique? I am told that it is no uncommon thing for great ladies to take these jewels to men in London who advance money on them. I have listened to such stories with incredulity--I begin to see now why things like this have to be done. Let me have them and I will go to London this afternoon. My cheeks flame with shame when I think of it; but I suppose there are harder tests of one's endurance. Where are they, father?"
"They are not here," he said. "I believe there are some magnificent heirlooms in the way of family gems, but they are not in my possession. You see we are merely a collateral branch of the old tree, so we have nothing to do with the jewels. At present I understand they are in the possession of the dowager Lady Dashwood. They came to her as a matter of right on her marriage, and I am told that she has retained them ever since. If her son had lived and come to the title and married, then his wife would have taken the stones as a matter of right, being the wife of the reigning head of the family. Whether or not they would come to you on your marriage is another question. Anyway, you would have the right of wearing them after the dowager dies. But this is a matter about which I know really nothing. As you are aware, my dear, Lady Dashwood does not like me. For some reason or another she has a violent prejudice against me, and she never asks me to the dower house if she can help it. Of course with you the thing is different--she brought you up and regards you more or less as her own child. It is just possible that she may tide us over the difficulty."
"Which means that you will go and ask her," Mary said eagerly.
"By no means, my dear," Sir George responded. "I could not stoop to ask a favour of that kind from any woman, however pressing the necessity. It seems to me to be more a question between one woman and another. Now from you, the request would seem quite natural. If you care to undertake it----"
But Mary heard no more. She could not trust herself to reply. Slowly and coldly she walked from the room, her hands locked convulsively together. Truly the family pride was a shattered reed to lean on, a skin deep thing after all. And the strong capable face of Ralph Darnley rose like a warm vision before her.
[CHAPTER XI.]
THE DOWAGER LADY DASHWOOD
The silent moody dinner was over at length; Slight was placing the dessert on the shining mahogany. Mary rose presently and walked over to the open window. Over the park the moon was gleaming like a silver shield against the pallid sky; the deer moved like ghosts in the pearly dew. It was more sweet and peaceful than ever, and yet Mary dwelt bitterly on the mockery of it all. What an enviable mortal she appeared to be, and yet how little did she deserve that envy. The hours had crept on and the thunderbolt had not yet fallen. Perhaps the blow would be delayed till tomorrow, which was a soothing reflection, for nothing had as yet been done, though Mary had made up her mind to invoke the aid of Lady Dashwood. She had not been across to the dower house yet, for Lady Dashwood had gone out on one of her rare visits to a neighbour, and at seven o'clock had not returned. There would be plenty of time afterwards, and Mary stood by the window, drinking in the full beauty of the night. She had made up her mind to tell Lady Dashwood everything and throw herself upon the elder woman's mercy. She turned to her father, who was gently complaining to Slight of the quality of the claret he was pouring out.
"I am going to the dower house now," the girl said coldly. How could a man be so trivial at such a moment, she wondered. "I may be late, father."