"You want me . . . to lend you . . . my jewels?" Lady Dashwood gasped. There was no trace of anger or displeasure in her voice. She looked strangely white and drawn, as if suddenly, years had been added to her life. "How do you know I have any?"
"I asked my father. No, he did not suggest it. He told me that our family collection of stones was a famous one; he said that everything was in your possession. Then in shame and agony of spirit I dragged myself here to ask you to do this thing. My own proper pride held me back, my family pride urged me on."
"The curse of the race," Lady Dashwood cried. "The besetting sin of the family will ruin us all yet. Heavens! the mischief that it has brought about already. It made my wedded life a long intolerable bondage, rendering me old before my time. It was responsible for the great sin which caused my son to leave home for ever. And yet I fed you on the family pride, I held it before you day by day until you have grown so cold and hard that I alone know of the kind and generous heart that beats within you. . . . But enough of this. You want me to lend you some of my jewels. If I tell you I have none, what then?"
"My father told me that they were in your possession, Lady Dashwood."
"My child, you must not speak to me in that tone. It hurts me dreadfully. Suppose the stones are gone, suppose that I have parted with them one by one to preserve a fearful family secret! Suppose that I parted with the last diamond yesterday! What would you say if I told you that?"
Lady Dashwood had suddenly lost her reason. Mary could see no other explanation for this extraordinary speech. And yet the speaker looked guilty enough, there was a shamed flush on her withered cheeks. She rose from her seat and moved to the door.
"Wait a moment," she said. "I may find a way yet. But my sin is going to find me out and my sacrifice shall be all in vain."
[CHAPTER XII.]
LADY DASHWOOD SEES A GHOST
With faltering hesitation Lady Dashwood made her way into the dark hall beyond the drawing-room. She bore little resemblance to the grand dame that her friends knew. In spite of her silks, her laces and her flashing rings, she looked like the ordinary woman who is suffering from the burden of a great affliction. There were tears in her eyes as she walked along. The house was strangely silent; no servants were to be seen anywhere as Lady Dashwood reached a door leading to the green forecourt with the cloisters beyond. She stepped out into the moonlight slowly, she passed across the garden under the brown stone archway that led to the cloisters.