"I want you, Williams," said Mrs. Mortomley, when his meditations had assumed the form of regrets, and he followed her into the dining-room.
"You had better let that man have some supper," she said. "I suppose you can manage to do so, and if for a day or two you are able so to arrange matters that no one shall suspect who or what he is, I am certain Lord Darsham will be very much obliged. And I can only say for my own part, I am very much obliged and—" a slight pantomime of offer and protest and final acceptance, and another of Dolly's sovereigns had gone the way which so many sovereigns, that can ill be spared, do go in this prosaic world.
Williams did not give notice next morning to Lord Darsham, and his forbearance was rewarded.
CHAPTER XII.
MRS. MORTOMLEY BREAKS THE NEWS.
Mrs. Werner, clad in the deepest of mourning, in the most unbecoming of caps, sat in that small room where Dolly had overheard Mr. Werner's utterances concerning her husband. Her cousin had been closeted with her for nearly an hour. Faithfully he agreed with Mrs. Mortomley that he would break the news of the dead man's embarrassments to his widow, and, indeed, it was plain no time ought to be lost in acquainting Mrs. Werner with the actual state of her finances.
"She has ordered mourning for the whole household," observed Lord Darsham, "and she has intimated her wish that a milliner should go to Dassell to see the children's dresses are properly made. Now, with every wish—"
"I comprehend, my Lord, and have already countermanded her orders, or, at least, have requested that their execution may be delayed."
Something in the tone of her voice, something in the stress she laid on the words my lord, struck the person she addressed with a sense of uneasiness.