"I needn't tell you," Lady Ogram continued, "that Miss Bride has my entire and perfect confidence. I don't think I'm easily deceived in people, and—even before she spoke to me of you—I had made up my mind that, in some way or other, she must be given a chance of doing something in life. You know all about her ways of thinking—perhaps better than I do."
In the pause which followed, Dyce was on the point of disclaiming this intimacy; but the drift of Lady Ogram's talk, exciting his curiosity, prevailed to keep him silent. He bent his look and smiled modestly.
"She's one of the few women," went on his friend, "who do more than they promise. She'll never be what is called brilliant. She won't make much of a figure in the drawing-room. But, give her a chance, and she'll do things that people will talk about. She has powers of organising; I don't know whether you understand how well she is getting to be known by serious workers in the social reform way. There's not one of them can write such good letters—tell so much in few words. But we must give her a chance—you and I together."
Dyce was startled. His smile died away, and, involuntarily, he turned a look of surprise on the speaker.
"You mean," said Lady Ogram, as though answering a remonstrance, "that you know all about that without my telling you. Don't be touchy; you and I can understand each other well enough, if we like. What I want to let you know is, that I consider she has a claim upon me. Not in the ordinary sense. Perhaps I'm not quite an ordinary woman, and I see things in a way of my own. She has a claim upon me, because she's one of the few women who have nothing of the baby or the idiot in them, and I've been looking out for that sort all my life. If Constance Bride"—the voice became slower, as if for emphasis—"is put into a position of trust, she'll do all that is expected of her. There's no particular hurry; she's young enough still. And as for you, you've got your hands full."
Dyce felt so puzzled that he could not shape a word. One thing was growing clear to him; but what did the old woman mean by her "position of trust?" How was Constance to be given her "chance?" And what, exactly, was she expected to do?
"Well, we've had our talk," said the old lady, moving as if in pain and weariness. "Go back to town to-night or to-morrow morning, as you like. Write to me, mind, as well as to Miss Bride, and let me know of all the acquaintances you make. It's just possible I may be in London myself next month; it depends on several things."
She became dreamy. Dyce, though he would have liked to say much, knew not how to express himself; it was plain, moreover, that his hostess had little strength to-day. He rose.
"I think I shall catch the evening train, Lady Ogram."
"Very well. A pleasant journey!"