Whatever abnormal circumstances there had been in Mrs. Porter’s history, her benefactor was likely to be acquainted with them; and if those circumstances had affected her intellect it was vital that he should be made aware of the fact before evil of any kind could arise.
He contrived an after-dinner stroll upon the terrace with his kinsman as upon the previous evening, and entered upon the subject without loss of time.
“Ramsay and I took our afternoon-tea with Mrs. Porter,” he said.
“Indeed! How did that come about? She is not a sociable person in a general way, or accessible to strangers.”
“It was to gratify a fancy of Ramsay’s that I went there. He admired her cottage and was interested in her history, and took it into his head that she was a woman of exceptional character.”
“He was not far wrong there, I believe. Mrs. Porter is a very hard nut to crack. I have never been able to fathom her.”
“And yet with your knowledge of her previous history you must have the safest clue to her character.”
“I don’t know about that. There is nothing exceptional in her history—and there is much that is exceptional in her character, as your friend says. Pray what was the result of his observation of the lady in the leisure of afternoon tea-drinking?”
“He believed that he saw the traces of madness in her countenance and manner; madness either past, present, or impending. He could not decide which.”
There was not light enough upon the terrace to show Theodore any change in his cousin’s countenance, but the movement of Lord Cheriton’s hand as he took the cigar from his mouth, and the sudden slackening of his pace were sufficient indications of troubled thought. It could hardly be pleasant for him to hear so melancholy a suggestion about the pensioner whom he had established in comfort at his gate, intending that she should enjoy his bounty for all the days of her life.