The two or three days before the shooting season begins are invariably very tedious in the country, and I passed my morning chiefly in roaming through the park and pleasure grounds, and I hardly need say that, during those rambles, my thoughts were chiefly occupied with the intimacy which had taken place between my mother and Lord de Versely. On the third morning after my arrival I had been strolling for more than two hours, when I came to a very retired sort of Gothic cell, formed of the distended limbs of an old oak, intermixed with stones and grass. It faced towards the park, and was built up on the green lawn amidst clumps of laurel and other evergreens. I threw myself on the benches. It was just the place for a man to select for a rendezvous: just the secret spot where a maiden could listen without trembling at intruders; and it struck me that this must have been the trysting place of my parents. For an hour I remained there, castle-building for the future, and musing on the past, when I heard a voice, close to me on the other side of the cell, the back of which was turned towards the hall. I knew the voice to be that of the old lady, who, it appears, had, as usual, come out in her garden chair, and was dragged by her attendant, Phillis: the wheels had made no noise on the velvet lawn, and, until roused by her voice, I was not aware of their approach.
“Nonsense, Phillis; why, child, what should you know about such things?” said the old lady.
“If you please to recollect, ma’am,” replied Phillis, who certainly was old enough to recollect all the passages in a woman’s life, “I was your maid at the time that it happened, and I was constantly in company with Bella Mason. She was very respectful towards you, but you did not know what her temper was; there never was so proud a young woman, or who considered herself of such consequence as she did—so much so, that she treated even Mr Jonas, the butler, and Mrs Short, the housekeeper, with disdain.”
“Well, well, I know that she was proud; her mother was always a proud woman. Mr Mason, in his younger days, held property of his own, at least his father did, but he ran through it revelling and horse-racing; but what does that prove?”
“I only say, madam, what was said at the time by everybody, that Bella Mason never would have married that marine, whom she looked upon with contempt, although he certainly was a good-looking young man, if she had not been obliged to do so.”
“But why obliged, Phillis?”
“To conceal her shame, madam; for, if you recollect, the child was born three months after marriage.”
“I recollect that, very well,” replied Miss Delmar; “it was a sad thing, and, as my nephew said, I ought to have looked out sharper after Bella than I did, and not have allowed her to be so much in company with that marine.”
“That marine, ma’am! he was innocent enough; Bella was not likely to listen to one like him.”
“Who can you mean then, Phillis?”