“The look grows,” she said to herself—“the look grows and deepens. Poor little lad! he is right enough when he says that gold and lands won’t satisfy him. Well, now, I’m doing him no harm by keeping back the silver tankard. It’s only his good-for-nothing mother as will be put out, and that middle-aged man in London and that other boy. What do I care for that other boy, or for any one in all the world but my missus and her dear little ladies? There, there, that tankard is worse than a nightmare to me. I hate it, and I’d give all the world never to have seen it; but there, now that I’ve got it I’ll keep it.”
[CHAPTER XXIV.—A GREAT ALARM.]
“Katharine,” said Miss Griselda to her younger sister, “do you happen to remember the address of those lodgings in London where we wrote years ago to Rachel’s and Kitty’s mother? The 5th of May will be this day week, and although I dislike the woman, and of course cannot possibly agree with you as to her being in any sense of the word a lady, yet still when Griselda Lovel passes her word she does pass it, and I think it is right, however painful, to give the young woman the invitation for the 5th of May.”
“We wrote one letter nearly six years ago to No. 10 Abbey Street, Marshall Road, S.W., London,” answered Miss Katharine in a sharp voice for her. “One letter to a mother about her own children; but that was the address, Griselda.”
“No. 10 Abbey Street,” repeated Miss Griselda. “I shall send the young woman an invitation to-day. Of course it won’t reach her, for she is dead long ago; but it is only right to send it. Katharine, you don’t look well this morning. Is anything the matter?”
“Nothing more than usual,” answered Miss Katharine. “One letter in six years to Valentine’s wife. Oh, no, I was not likely to forget the address.”
“Allow me to congratulate you on your excellent memory, my dear. Oh, here comes Phil’s mother. I have much to talk over with her.”
Miss Katharine left the room; her head was throbbing and tears rose unbidden to her eyes. When she reached the great hall she sat down on an oak bench and burst into tears.
“How cruel of Griselda to speak like that of Valentine’s wife,” she said under her breath. “If Valentine’s wife is indeed dead I shall never know another happy moment. Oh, Rachel and Kitty, my dears, I did not see you coming in.”
“Yes, and here is Phil too,” said Kitty, dragging him forward. “Why are you crying, Aunt Katharine? Do dry your tears and look at our lovely flowers.”