Then, as a sudden idea flashed upon him, he continued:
“Was your father twice married?”
“No, never, never!”
“Tell me, then, please, your mother’s name?”
“Margaret Ferguson, and she died in Rome, when I was born.”
He had her in the carriage by this time, and her eyes were looking straight into his as he began:
“If your mother was Margaret Ferguson, and died in Rome, I am afraid——”
He did not go on, for something in the black eyes stopped him suddenly, and warned him that if these people were indeed her relatives she would suffer no insinuations against them. She was like Phil in that respect; what was hers she would defend, and, when Mrs. Ferguson’s red face appeared at the door, Reinette moved to the other side of the seat, and said:
“Here, grandmother, sit by me, please.”
She had acknowledged her by name, at least, and Reinette felt better, and only clenched her hands hard as Mrs. Lydia and Anna disposed of themselves on the soft cushions opposite, the young lady stepping on and tearing her long lace scarf.