"It was hanging around, just as one prophesies a storm after an electrical feeling in the air. Mrs. Vansittart recognized Brand, and made her calculations accordingly. Let us give her the credit due to her. As soon as she discovered him, the marriage project was off."
"I had that kind of impression myself. Glad I mentioned it to you, now."
"Of course you are. I'll bet any reasonable sum that Mrs. Vansittart intended to leave Penzance tomorrow as soon as she had made you understand that she could not, under any circumstances, become my aunt."
A ghost of a smile flitted across Mr. Traill's face. His nephew's way of putting things was delightfully unequivocal.
"What we are apt to lose sight of," continued Pyne, "is the manner in which Brand received what must have been a staggering blow. He met his wife tonight after a separation of more than twenty years. And how he took it! When he spoke, it was really in her behalf. The thing is too amazing. Of course, now that the thunder and lightning have started, the sky will clear all the sooner."
"Unhappily such affairs do not arrange themselves so readily," snapped Lady Margaret. She was becoming more angry with each wave of reflection. "Young men like you do not realize the effect of such—such unpleasant exposures on family life. How will the early history of her parents affect the future of Constance Brand? As for the other girl—"
Her ladyship threw up her hands in helpless abandonment. To her mind, the adoption of poor Enid, the sea-waif, assumed a darker appearance now that Brand's matrimonial adventures revealed sinister features.
Jack Stanhope caught her by the shoulder.
"Mother," he cried, "before you say another word let me tell you something you ought to know. Enid is Mr. Traill's daughter!"
Now this good woman loved her son dearly. All her thoughts were of him and for him. Her look of blank incredulity yielded to the confirmation she saw writ on all three faces.