"No, my lady—of Berkshire."
"And you have been a widow how long?"
What ailed Mrs. Weymore? She was all white and trembling—even her hands, folded and pressed together in her lap, shook in spite of her.
"Eight years and more."
She said it with a sort of sob, hysterically choked. Lady Thetford looked on surprised, and a trifle displeased. She was a very proud woman, and certainly wished for no scene with her hired dependents.
"Eight years is a tolerable time," she said, coolly. "You have lost children?"
"One, my lady."
Again that choked, hysterical sob. My lady went on pitilessly.
"Is it long ago?"
"When—when I lost its father."