Mrs. Swinford gave a start of pleasure when, sweeping into her room in those long and splendid robes which were more fit for a Court than for a country house of so little distinction as the Hall at Watcham, she perceived Mrs. Brown sitting by the fire. It was, perhaps, the only event which could have lighted up her face with pleasure. She was cross, excited, full of the impatience and exasperation of effort which she felt to be at least only half successful; and Julie had perceived by her first glance at the lines on her lady’s brow that her evening’s task to undress, and soothe, and persuade into calm and sleep this agitated and disturbed old woman would be no easy one. ‘You come at the best time. You always know when I have need of you,’ Mrs. Swinford said, letting herself drop, as was her wont, into Mrs. Brown’s arms. The very passiveness of the embrace was a habit—a habit of reliance and expected help which had never failed. If such a thing as affection had ever been in Mrs. Swinford’s heart it was this other woman, so like her, and so unlike, who was its object.
‘I see you are got up for conquest,’ Mrs. Brown said.
‘Conquest! I am dressed as usual. There was one guest at dinner—an insignificant boy. You can leave us, Julie, till I ring. A boy, but with such a name! What do you think? A nephew—Lord Will they call him fortunately, or it would have been too much.’
‘A nephew——! of——’
‘Do you need to inquire? Then you are growing dull, dull as your surroundings. You who used to understand everything à demi-mot!’
‘I understand. I almost met him on the stairs. I thought there was something familiar in his face. And what does he want here?’
‘Is it necessary to ask? Might he not come to see me, or Leo, whom he knows? But no, no, Artémise, I will not deceive you. He has come to find out about that woman—her rights to his name—which she has none, having stolen it, as you know; and to some money that has fallen in, do I care how! He could not have come to a better quarter. I gave him some information.’
‘What information?’ said Mrs. Brown, sitting up in her chair.
‘I told him all that I knew. You will please to remember it is all I know: that she left the Hall hastily at midnight, that I met her after in Paris bearing his name.’ Mrs. Swinford, too, sat upright, with a colour in her cheeks and a fire in her eyes that recalled something of the beauty of old to her worn face. ‘What do I know more? Nothing,’ she said, with a movement of her hands, which made the rings upon them flash and send out rays like sparks of light.
‘Ah! you told him that?’