“Not then,” said Mr. Blotting.
“Not then,” said Mary, “nor ever. Why, what time was that?”
The lawyer read out the date, “Nearly six years ago.”
She had been unmoved by the figures, but started slightly at this.
“Six years! We have not been married—half that time——”
“Oh, yes, my dear Mary,” said Mrs. Hill; “going on for seven years. You see you have been so long away, such a long time away—more than five years.”
“My dear,” said the vicar, “never mind about dates. Mary must be kept quite calm——”
She glanced round, with a wondering, troubled look.
“Five years! Why!” She burst into a little laugh. “I to be away from my dear old lord for five years! Mother, you must be dreaming. But let us return to the other subject. I have a statement to make, which is very serious. I think I have a right to be heard, for no one can know as well as me. I have always been disturbed ever since I was married by the thought of any harm that might happen to Letitia and her family through me. You all know that. Well! Please let everybody listen to me; it is very, very important. My great comfort in my dear lord’s death is this—that everything of that kind has been mercifully averted. You may think me very calm, seeing how much I have lost. Oh, no one can tell what I have lost—the kindest, the dearest! He was old, but that only made us suit each other the better—for you know I was not young. But my comfort in it all is this—that no harm has been done. I don’t understand your talk about a child. John Parke, my husband’s brother, is of course Lord Frogmore; and Letitia is Lady Frogmore: and I am the Dowager; that is all as plain as daylight. And,” said Mary, rising, her eyes full of tears, her gesture full of dignity, “if they think I grudge it they are very, very wrong. I wish them a happy life and long, long years to bear their new name; and my own comfort in losing my dear lord is that no harm has been done to them.”
She made this long speech with the air of a queen giving up her throne, and with a smile through her tears turned away, taking her sister’s arm, who stood crying silently, not saying a word. The doctor hastened forward from behind to offer his support, but Mary put him away. “No, thank you, doctor,” she said; “I am quite well. I want no help.” She turned to the audience who were silent, struck dumb, not venturing even to look at each other in the awe of the strange communication she had made them. “I need not stay longer?” she said. “No, I could not help to settle anything; but whatever you arrange I will do.” It was John Parke who hurried forward to open the door for her. He took her hand as she passed him and gave it a close grasp. He was strangely disturbed, and moved, in a way Mary was very far from understanding. “Lady Frogmore,” he said, “whether you know it or not, and however hard it may be, I’ll do my duty all the same.” “I never doubted it,” she said; “you were always kind; and God bless you, Lord Frogmore.” John fell back as if he had received a blow. He went back slowly to the rest, who were all silent, not even Letitia finding courage enough to make any remark. John looked at the vicar again as if he would have liked to oust him from his place; but finally, finding that too much to undertake, flung himself down into a low but very comfortable chair by the fire. “Well,” he said, looking round, “here is just as strange a business as ever I met with. Blotting, what do you think?”