She sat very upright in her chair, with a smile of self-complacence, nodding her head. “Well,” she said, “and what’s wanted of me? Not to go and nurse my lady, I suppose? They don’t want me to do that?”
“They wish to know,” said Colonel Piercey, restraining himself with an effort, “Mr. Gervase Piercey’s address.”
“Their son’s address?” said Miss Hewitt. “He’s the heir, you know. The village folks calls him the Softy, but there couldn’t nothing be proved against him. He’ll be Sir Gervase after his father, and nobody can’t prevent that. And how is it as they don’t know their own son’s address? and for why should they send you to me? Me, a lady living quiet in her own house, meddling with none of them, how should I know their son’s address?”
“I have told you I have not the slightest light to throw on this question. It appears that your niece is in London, and that she was seen, or it is supposed she was seen, with my cousin.”
“And what then?” cried the old lady. “You think, perhaps, as that Softy led my Patty wrong. Ho, ho! ho, ho!” She laughed a low guttural laugh, prolonging it till Colonel Piercey’s exasperation was almost beyond bearing. “You think as he was the gay Lotharium and she was the young Lavinyar, eh? Oh, I’ve read plenty of books in my time, and I know how gentlemen talk of them sort of things. No, she ain’t, Mister Piercey. My Patty is one that knows very well what she is about.”
“So I have heard, also. I believe it is supposed that as he is such a fool, your niece may have married him, Miss Hewitt.”
“And so she have, just!” cried the old lady, springing from her chair. She waved her arms in the air and uttered a hoarse “Hooray!” “That is just what has happened, mister; exactly true, as if you’d been in all the plans from the first. You tell Sir Giles as there is a Patty Hewitt will be Lady Piercey, after all, and not the Queen herself couldn’t prevent it. Just you tell him that from me; Patience, called for her aunt, and thought to be like me, though smaller—my brother being an ass and marrying a little woman. But that’s just the gospel truth. She’s Mrs. Gervase Piercey, now, and she’ll be Lady Piercey when the time comes. Oh!” cried Miss Hewitt, sinking back in her chair, exhausted, “but I’d like to be there when he hears. And I’d like to tell her, I should,” she added, with a fierce glare in her eyes.
Gerald had risen when she did, and stood holding the back of his chair. Fortunately, he had great command of his temper, though the provocation was strong. He was silent while she settled herself again in her seat, and rearranged her cap-strings and the folds of her gown, though the flowers in her head-dress quivered with excitement and triumph. He said, “I fear you will never have that satisfaction. Lady Piercey is dying, and, happily, knows nothing about this. Perhaps your revenge might be more complete if you would summon her son to see her before she dies.”
Miss Hewitt was too much occupied by what she had herself said to pay much attention to him. It was only after some minutes of murmuring and smiling to herself, that she began to recall that he had made a reply. “What was you saying, Mr. Piercey—eh? If you was counting on succeeding you’re struck all of a heap, and I don’t wonder, for there’s an end of you, my fine gentleman! There’ll be a family and a large family, you take your oath of that. None of your marrying in-and-in cousins and things, but a fine, fresh, new stock. What was you saying? Dying is she, that woman? Well, we’ve all got to die. She’s had her share above most, and taken other folks’s bread out of their mouths, and she must take her share now. Nobody’s a-going to die instead of her. That’s a thing as you’ve got to do when your time comes for yourself.”
“And, happily,” said Gerald, “she knows nothing of all this. Perhaps if she were permitted to see her son——”