Mrs. Lovel smiled faintly.
“Well, Nancy,” she said, “I must at least go to town to-morrow, and as that is the case I will take your advice and go up to my room now. No, I could not eat anything. Good-night, dear Nancy.”
When Mrs. Lovel left the little sitting-room Nancy stayed behind to give it a good “redding-up” as she expressed it. With regard to sitting-rooms, and indeed all rooms arranged for human habitation, Nancy was a strict disciplinarian; rigid order was her motto. Chairs placed demurely in rows; a table placed exactly in the middle of the room; books arranged at symmetrical intervals round it; each ornament corresponding exactly to its fellow; blinds drawn to a certain level—these were her ideas of a nice cheerful apartment. Could she have had her own choice with regard to carpets, she would have had them with a good dash of orange in them; her curtains should always be made of moreen and be of a bright cardinal tone. A tidy and a cheerful room was her delight; she shuddered at the tendencies, so-called artistic, of the present day. Putting the little sitting-room in order now, her feet knocked against something which gave forth a metallic sound; stooping, she picked up from the floor Phil’s tankard. She examined it curiously and brought it to the light. The quaint motto inscribed on one of its sides—“Tyde what may”—was well known to her as the motto of the house of Lovel.
“I know nothing about this old cup,” she said to herself; “it may or may not be of value; but it looks old—uncommon old; and it has the family coat of arms and them outlandish, meaningless words on it. Of course it was little Master Phil brought it in to-day and forgot all about it. Well, well, it may mean something or it may not; but my name ain’t Nancy White if I don’t set it by for the present and bide my time about returning it. Ah, my dear, dear lady, it won’t be Nancy’s fault if your bonny little girls don’t get their own out of Avonsyde!”
[CHAPTER XIV.—THE AUSTRALIANS.]
Messrs. Baring & Baring, the lawyers who transacted all the business matters for the Misses Lovel, were much worried about Christmas-time with clients. The elder Mr. Baring was engaged with a gentleman who had come from the country to see him on special and urgent business, and in consequence his son, a bright-looking, intelligent man of thirty, was obliged to ask two gentlemen to wait in his anteroom or to call again, while he himself interviewed a sorrowful-looking lady who required immediate attention.
The gentlemen decided to wait the younger Mr. Baring’s leisure, and in consequence he was able to attend to his lady client without impatience.
“The business which brings you to me just before Christmas, Mrs. Lovel, must be of the utmost importance,” he began.
Mrs. Lovel raised her veil and a look of intense pain filled her eyes.
“It is of importance to me,” she said, “for it means—yes, I greatly fear it means that my six years of bitter sacrifice have come to nothing and the heir is found.”