"All very well, but after such a lecture as you have indulged in, I think I prefer not to say any more about Julie."
"Do. I'm ashamed of myself--except that I don't retract one word, not one. Be kind, all the same, and tell me--if you know--has she spoken to Lord Lackington?"
The Duchess still frowned, but a few more apologetic expressions on his part restored a temper that had always a natural tendency to peace. Indeed, Jacob's boutades never went long unpardoned. An only child herself, he, her first cousin, had played the part of brother in her life, since the days when she first tottered in long frocks, and he had never played it in any mincing fashion. His words were often blunt. She smarted and forgave--much more quickly than she forgave her husband. But then, with him, she was in love.
So she presently vouchsafed to give Jacob the news that Lord Lackington at last knew the secret--that he had behaved well--had shown much feeling, in fact--so that poor Julie--
But Jacob again cut short the sentimentalisms, the little touching phrases in which the woman delighted.
"What is he going to do for her?" he said, impatiently. "Will he make any provision for her? Is there any way by which she can live in his house--take care of him?"
The Duchess shook her head.
"At seventy-five one can't begin to explain a thing as big as that. Julie perfectly understands, and doesn't wish it."
"But as to money?" persisted Jacob.
"Julie says nothing about money. How odd you are, Jacob! I thought that was the last thing needful in your eyes."