"Later, my wife fully retracted what she said in that letter," continued Val. "She confessed that she had written it partly at your dictation, Lady Kirton, and said—but I had better not tell you that, perhaps."
"Then you shall tell me, Lord Hartledon; and you are a two-faced man, if you shuffle out of it."
"Very well. Maude said that she would not for the whole world allow her children to be brought up by you; she warned me also not to allow you to obtain too much influence over them."
"It's false!" said the dowager, in no way disconcerted.
"It is perfectly true: and Maude told me you knew what her sentiments were upon the point. Her real wish, as expressed to me, was, that the children should remain with me in any case, in their proper home."
"You say you have that other letter still?" cried the dowager, who was not always very clear in her conversation.
"No doubt."
"Then perhaps you'll look for it: and read over her wishes in black and white."
"To what end? It would make no difference in my decision. I tell you, ma'am, I am consulting Maude's wishes in keeping her child at home."
"I know better," retorted the dowager, completely losing her temper. "I wish your poor dear wife could rise from her grave and confute you. It's all stinginess; because you won't part with a paltry bit of money."