"I can assure you the only interest I take in him is because he is my Lord Lancaster; and as he holds the title my late husband held, I should like for him to have money enough to support it properly. But if he does not marry to please me, you shall see how little I care for the young popinjay."
Mrs. West made no reply, and her mistress continued, after a moment's thought:
"Must you really take the child, do you think, West?"
"I couldn't think of refusing poor Dick's dying request," was the answer.
"Shall you make your home in America?" continued the lady.
"Oh, no, no; I should come back to dear old England. I couldn't consent to pass my last days in a strange country."
Lady Lancaster was silent a moment. Her eyes were very thoughtful; her thin lips worked nervously. Mrs. West waited patiently, her plump hands folded together over the letter that had brought her such strange, unwelcome news. "Where are you going to live when the child comes?" Lady Lancaster snapped, almost rudely.
"I don't know yet, my lady. I have made no plans. I only received my letter a little while ago."
"You don't want my advice, I presume?"—more snappishly than ever.