Miss Malliver came from somewhere, and left the room.
Richard felt very angry: was he not to see his father's daughter except in the presence of that woman? But he said nothing.
“There is just one thing,” resumed her ladyship, “upon which, if only out of respect to the feelings of my late husband, I feel bound to insist;—it is, that, while in this neighbourhood, you will be careful as to what company you show yourself in. You will not, I trust, pretend ignorance of my meaning, and cause me the pain of having to be more explicit!”
Richard was struck dumb with indignation—and remained dumb from the feeling that he could not condescend to answer her as she deserved. Ere he had half recovered himself, she had again resumed.
“If the title were ceded to the property,” she said, as if talking to herself, “it might be a matter for more material consideration.”
“Did your ladyship address me?” said Richard.
“If you choose to understand what I mean.—But I speak with too much delicacy, I fear. Compensation it could be only by courtesy.—Suppose I referred to the court of chancery my grave doubts of your story?”
“My father has acknowledged me!”
“And repudiated;—sent you from the house—left you to pursue your trade—bequeathed you nothing! Everybody knows your father—my late husband, I mean—would risk anything for my annoyance, though, thank God, he dared not attempt to push injury beyond the grave!—he well knew the danger of that! Had he really believed you his son, do you imagine he would have left you penniless? Would he not have been rejoiced to put you over Mr. Lestrange's head, if only to wring the heart of his mother?”
“The proofs that satisfied him remain.”