"Miss Rand, I wonder whether—the fact is, my mother has just decided that she wishes to be moved to Beaminster House. I must of course go with her. I hope that this will not inconvenience you. You can, if you prefer not to leave your mother, come down every day by train; it only takes an hour. Just as you please...."
Lizzie's heart was strangely, poignantly stirred. The moment had come then; the house was to be deserted. This could only mean the end. She herself would never return here, her little room, the large solemn house, that walk from Saxton Square, the Round Church, the Queen's Hall, Regent's Park....
But she gave no sign.
Gravely she replied: "I think I'd better come down with you, Lady Adela, if you don't mind. My mother has my sister. Perhaps I might come up for the week-ends."
"Yes. That would be quite easy. The other places, you know, are let, but Beaminster has always been kept. The Duke has been there a good deal. It reminds me ... I was there for some years as a girl."
Lizzie realized that Lady Adela was very near to tears; she had never before seen her, in any way, moved. She was distressed and uncomfortable. It was as though Lady Adela were, suddenly, after all these years, about to be driven from a position that had seemed, in its day, impregnable.
"Oh! don't, please don't, now!" was Lizzie's silent cry. "It will spoil it all—all these years."
Lady Adela didn't. Her voice became dry and hard, her eyes without expression.
"We shall go down, I expect, on Monday if Dr. Christopher thinks that a good day."
"I hope that the Duchess——"