But he turned coldly enough to shake hands with Lucy. He cherished resentment against her in his heart. She saw he did not look well; but she was cold as he was. As he walked across the hall with his aunt, Mrs. Arkell drew Lucy back into the drawing-room. Her curiosity had been on the rack all the time.
"Whose carriage is that, Lucy? One belonging to the Dewsburys'?"
"It is Mrs. Dundyke's."
"Mrs.——what did you say? I asked whose carriage that is that you came in," added Mrs. Arkell, believing that Lucy had not heard aright.
"Yes, I understood. It is Mrs. Dundyke's. She sent it on, the day before yesterday, with her servants and horses."
"But—does—she—keep a carnage and servants?" reiterated Mrs. Arkell, hardly able to bring out the words in her perplexed amazement.
"Oh, yes."
"Then she must be left well off?"
"Very well. She is very rich. I believe her income is close upon two thousand a year."
"Two thou——" Mrs. Arkell wound up with a shriek of astonishment. Lucy had to leave her to recover it in the best way she could, for Mrs. Dundyke had got into the carriage and was waiting for her.