“I knew it!” said Elizabeth, in the voice of Cassandra.
Lady Winwood sank back upon her cushions with closed eyes. Charlotte, observing her alarming rigidity shrieked: “Unnatural girl! Have you no consideration for our dearest Mama? Lizzie, hartshorn!”
The hartshorn, the vinaigrette, and some Hungary Water applied to the temples restored the afflicted Lady Winwood to life. She opened her eyes and found just strength to utter: “What did the child say?”
Charlotte, fondly clasping her mother’s frail hand, said: “Mama, do not agitate yourself, I beg of you!”
“You n-need not be agitated, M-mama,” Horatia told her penitently. “It is quite true that I’ve b-been to see Lord Rule, but—”
“Then all is at an end!” said Lady Winwood fatalistically. “We may as well prepare to enter the Debtors’ Prison. I am sure I do not mind for myself, for my Days are Numbered, but my beautiful Lizzie, my sweetest Charlotte—”
“M-mama, if only you w-would listen to me!” broke in Horatia. “I have explained everything to L-Lord Rule, and—”
“Merciful heavens!” said Elizabeth. “Not—not Edward?”
“Yes, Edward. Of course I told him about Edward. And he is n-not going to marry you, Lizzie, but he p-promised he would be Edward’s P-patron instead—”
Lady Winwood had recourse to the vinaigrette again, and desired feebly to be told what she had ever done to deserve such calamity.