Mansfield hurriedly left the study; his firm, refined face assumed a somewhat slight and delicate flush; he drew himself up to his slender height, a half-suppressed sigh rose to his lips and then he disappeared. Fergus Desmond heard him murmur to himself,
"She's a good woman, yes, she's a good woman, and I—I have deceived her," but whether Mrs. Mansfield was good or bad, nothing could exceed her wild rage and anger when she encountered her husband in the little narrow hall and when he told her, which he did firmly and gently, that he had sent little Margot to visit her relations in Ireland.
"I didn't act fair by you, Priscilla," he said, "and I'm more than willing to own it, but the child pined to see her own people, and I—I, yes, I let her go."
"The little brat," said Mrs. Mansfield, "and pray what money did you give her? She couldn't cross the briny with nothing in her pocket."
"She didn't have a penny of yours, Priscilla; but wait, whist, I have something to say...."
Whatever that something may have been, it was interrupted in a most startling and unpleasant manner, for Fergus Desmond also opened the door of the little study and stood in the hall. He was exactly three years younger than Priscilla, and Priscilla could not mistake him for a moment. She disliked all her family, but perhaps she disliked Fergus the most, for Fergus would never give in to her or submit to her scoldings, and even the lively Norah and the old young Bridget found their brother a rock of defense on the occasions when Priscilla rounded on them.
"I've come, Prissy," he said, not offering to kiss her or even to take her hand. "I see you are exactly the same as ever. I pity from the bottom of my heart the good man you have made your husband."
"You pity the son of a farmer for having married a Desmond of Desmondstown," almost hissed the good lady.
"I pity the man you have married—I care nothing about his ancestry. He's got a good bit of property I'm thinking in a more enduring country than this. But now, about the child. I came over on purpose to speak to you and John about her. My father, The Desmond, wants to keep her and from what I can see of you, Prissy, you'll be glad to be rid of her."