Lady Mount Severn gave herself little trouble to explain. She had been up a day or two—could order her mourning so much better in person—and William did not seem well, so she brought him up for a change.
“I am sorry you came to town, Emma,” remarked the earl, after listening. “Isabel is gone to-day to Castle Marling.”
Lady Mount Severn quickly lifted her head, “What’s she gone there for?”
“It is the most disgraceful piece of business altogether,” returned the earl, without replying to the immediate question. “Mount Severn has died, worse than a beggar, and there’s not a shilling for Isabel.”
“It never was expected there would be much.”
“But there’s nothing—not a penny; nothing for her own personal expenses. I gave her a pound or two to-day, for she was completely destitute!”
The countess opened her eyes. “Where will she live? What will become of her?”
“She must live with us. She—”
“With us!” interrupted Lady Mount Severn, her voice almost reaching a scream. “That she never shall.”
“She must, Emma. There is nowhere else for her to live. I have been obliged to decide it so; and she is gone, as I tell you, to Castle Marling to-day.”