Mary looked at him as he spoke, and dismissed the half-formed idea—that, since she had been alone with her father, had seized her with sudden temptation—of telling him the contents of the letter in her pocket, now, at once. She saw he spoke the truth. He was unfit to bear any great excitement.
Tea passed over with unwonted quiet. The “children” were impressed by their father’s weary looks, and conversation was carried on in unusually amicable whispers. After tea Mr Western went back to his study, and Mary at last succeeded in getting her mother to herself.
“For a quarter of an hour only, dear,” said Mrs Western. “Then I must take my work into the study and sit with your father. And I want to persuade him to go early to bed.”
“It is barely seven yet, mother,” said Mary. “Now listen—first of all, do you remember Lilias writing—of course you do—about having met a cousin of yours, a Mrs Brabazon, in town?”
“At the doctor’s, wasn’t it? Waiting for Mr Greville at the doctor’s, and your father was so pleased at it, and thought something might come of it—of course, I remember,” replied Mrs Western, growing interested. “Well, Mary?”
“Well, mother,” continued Mary, “Lilias’s letter is all about these relations of yours. She has met them again, they are at Hastings just now, and she has been to spend a day with them. And, mother,” she proceeded cautiously, “it does indeed seem as if something were going to come of it. Do you happen to know, did you ever hear how the Brooke property is left—entailed, I suppose I should say?”
“In the usual way, entailed on to the eldest son. I have always known that,” said Mrs Western, in some surprise.
“But failing an eldest son, mother, failing any direct male heir at all, do you—?”
Her question was never completed. At that moment a bell rang sharply and violently through the house. Mary and her mother stared at each other for a moment in silence. Bells were at no time in great request at the Rectory, and the sound of the special bell now heard seemed strange and unfamiliar.
“What can that be?” said Mary. “Some trick of the children’s I am afraid. Wait here, mother; I’ll go and see.”