She had once been brave, but the days and the weeks and the months had been draining her courage. Physically, she felt she was not strong enough to encounter one of the people who had compassed her husband's ruin; and though she would have fought for Leonora till she died, still her woman's nature warned her to shun a fight if possible.
"You will go now please, sir," urged poor Williams, "and come back and see his lordship to-night."
Whereupon Mr. Forde anathematized his lordship, and asked,
"How does that woman, that wife of Mortomley's, come here?"
"She was sent for, sir; my mistress has been quieter since her arrival. They are old friends."
"Humph," ejaculated Mr. Forde; "then any fool can tell where Henry Werner's money went." And he permitted himself to be edged out to the door-step by Williams, who took an early opportunity of saying he was wanted and of shutting the door hastily on that unwelcome visitor.
All that afternoon Williams surveyed callers doubtfully from a side window before opening the door. Had Mr. Forde again appeared, he would have put up the chain, and parleyed with him like a beleaguered city to the opposing force.
About six o'clock Lord Darsham came rattling up in a hansom. He had telegraphed back a reply to Dolly, and followed that reply as fast as an express train could bring him.
She ran downstairs, thankful for his arrival, and after years, long, long years, the Vicar of Dassell's little girl and Charley Trebasson, Leonora's first lover, met again.
"I should have known you anywhere," he said, after the first words of greeting and exclamations of pity and horror were uttered.