"Good Heavens! Mrs. Mortomley, you don't suppose I grudge Leonora this small expense. You do not think so meanly of me as that, I hope. But, still, with an execution in the house I cannot imagine that Leonora—"
"If Leonora knew how she is situated," Mrs. Mortomley again interrupted, "she would clothe herself in sackcloth; she would have all her coloured dresses dyed black rather than incur one penny of needless expense, and she ought to know, and you ought to tell her."
Which Lord Darsham finally agreed to do, and then left the revelation to Mrs. Mortomley.
"She must be told, and at once," thought Dolly, as she dragged wearily up the staircase, to find Mrs. Werner sitting in her widow's weeds, all alone.
"Lenny," she began, "I want to speak to you very seriously. I think you ought to go back to Dassell without any unnecessary delay."
Mrs. Werner half rose from her seat.
"Are any of the children ill," she asked, "or is it my mother?"
"Your mother is well as far as I know," answered Mrs. Mortomley, "and so are the children; but there are evils almost as hard to bear as illness, and—"
"You know, Dolly, I can bear anything better than suspense," said Mrs. Werner.
"I know nothing of the kind," was the reply. "My own impression is, you or any woman could endure suspense better than bad news, and my news is bad."