"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and would you speak to him for a moment?"
Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her shoulder.
"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said Mr. Wynter was from home?"
"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could he see you?"
"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders.
"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?"
"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him."
"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What do people come after dinner for?"
Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace, with a certain soft comfortableness about her aspect which seemed an odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed.
"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good."