“I wish you were now that my own are so far away. Well, if you are determined to hear I must tell you, sit down in that arm-chair comfortably, and remember that a lawyer does not like to be interrupted. At the same time my dear, prepare yourself to hear some sad news.
“Twenty years ago, your mother came to Abbott Mansfield with you, a little child just able to walk without falling.
“She rented the cottage, known as the Laurels, which was then let furnished, and lived there for four years with a nurse for you and one other maid servant.
“She dressed always in widow’s weeds, made no acquaintances whatever, and refused to see any people who from kindness or curiosity called upon her.
“One day I received a note asking me to go to the Laurels.
“I went, and found your mother dying.
“The doctor said it was general weakness, want of vitality and nervous power, and had advised her to go to a warm climate some weeks before.
“She told me it was a broken heart, my dear.”
Muriel had grown white and her eyes were dark with suppressed tears.
“You will find me brutally matter-of-fact. Do not think me devoid of sympathy. Cry as much as you like. Shall I go on?” after a few moments pause.