"Of course," answered the attorney.
"And the Duke of Beaufort wishes to see the woman, who, but for her generosity and feeling towards his family, had long since been his daughter, thrown on the wide world without a shilling?"
"He certainly is very angry with me for having paid you the £100, which I must lose out of my own pocket if you do not return it, since His Grace, being no longer obliged to do anything, will never give you twenty pounds as long as he lives."
"Not if I continue separated from Worcester?"
"Certainly, not even then. The fact is, His Grace believes that his son has left you altogether."
"What then is to become of me?"
"That is a matter of perfect indifference to His Grace and also to me. I only want to know if you mean to oblige me to obtain the hundred pounds back again by law."
I rang the bell.
"Show this man downstairs," said I, and I retired to my dressing-room.
Strange as it may appear, I was not in any respect put out of spirits at the idea of having lost £200 a year, and I do not believe I should at that time have eaten less dinner than usual, if I had lost £200 again: so little did I care for money, or anything money could buy, beyond clean linen and bread and milk; but I was deeply hurt to think that, do what I would to deserve it, no one would like me: and there was nothing on earth, half so desirable, half so consoling to me, as the esteem and steady friendship of others. For this I had left the gay world, and buried myself in a village. It was to ensure the esteem of the Beauforts that I refused to become one of them, and certainly, as I told the Duke when he called on me, Dowager Duchess sounds better than Dowager Dolly. Alas! no one cared for me! In a very desponding temper, I sat down, and wrote to Meyler as follows: