"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.
Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.
Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.
A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.
Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand; and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say you are his wife?"
"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.
"What is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"
"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the ground again—why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons for settling in Helstonleigh.
"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."
Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He knows that Mr. Peach will——"