“Sir Harold knew that he could depend upon my kindness to his child,” said Lady Wynde hypocritically. “I promised him before he went away to be a mother to her, although I shall be but a young mother, to be sure. I shall be very good to the poor girl, whom I love already. I don’t know anything about law, Mr. Atkins, but is not some other guardian also necessary—some one to see to the property, you know?”
“There are three trustees appointed to look after the estate during Miss Wynde’s minority,” answered Atkins. “Sir John Freise is one. You know him well, my lady, and a more incorruptible, honest-souled gentleman than he does not exist. He is a man of fine business capacity, and Sir Harold could not have chosen better. I am also a trustee, and I can answer for my own probity, and for my great devotion to the interests of Miss Wynde.”
“And the third trustee—who is he?”
“The young Earl Towyn. He is the son of one of Sir Harold’s dearest friends, as you probably know, and his youth admirably balances Sir John’s age.”
Lady Wynde looked thoughtful. Her gray companion bent over her work, embroidering a black monogram upon a black-bordered handkerchief, and did not look up. Her ashen-hued lashes lay on her ashen cheeks, and she looked dull, spiritless, a mere gray shadow, as we have called her, but Atkins, studying her face, had an uncomfortable impression that under all that coldness a fire was burning.
“She’s more than she looks to be,” he thought keenly. “I wonder Sir Harold tolerated her in his house. How singularly she resembles a cat!”
Lady Wynde presently broke the silence.
“I understand the situation of affairs,” she said, “and I am obliged to you for your prompt attendance upon my summons, Mr. Atkins. I shall leave my money affairs in your hands. I desire my jointure to be paid into the bank and placed to my credit, so that I may draw upon it when I please. There is nothing more, I think.”
“I would like to make a few inquiries about Miss Wynde, if you please, my lady,” said Atkins, with quiet firmness. “I understand that she is not at home. Has she not been summoned from her school since her father’s death?”
“She has not,” answered Lady Wynde haughtily.