"Of course he has."
"And he's loved them all the years he's known them. You let him go when it would have been inconvenient to marry him; but he didn't marry any one else till he had quite got over it. He's not the sort of man to do anything dishonorable."
"Of course he isn't." Mrs. Lakeman began to feel uncomfortable.
"And it's better that what is past and dead should be buried, and left unspoken of. I know"—she looked Mrs. Lakeman straight in the eyes—"he feels that everything was for the best; and he's been content and happy here. He said it not three months ago, and I think it would have been better not to have raked up bygones."
"You are quite right," Mrs. Lakeman said, heartily, for she was a quick-sighted woman and rather enjoyed being beaten: it made good comedy. "You are a most sensible woman. And now, tell me, won't it seem odd to you to be Lady Eastleigh?"
"I've not thought about it," Mrs. Vincent answered. "A living man has the name at present, and I hope he'll keep it."
"I dare say you would rather he did," Mrs. Lakeman said, patronage coming into her voice again. "It would be rather a difficult change," she added, humorously. "Fancy Gerald, Lord Eastleigh, living at Woodside Farm, with Miss Barton for his step-daughter—the Gerald whom I remember with every woman at his feet."
"I don't see that it would make so much difference," Mrs. Vincent answered, "and I hope he won't call himself by any other name than the one he has been known by. For my part, I never could see why people set so much store on titles. The biggest lord that lives only lies in one grave at last, and it isn't as if Gerald had a son to come after him, or was coming to big estates that had to be thought of. He'll live here again, and be just the same as he always was." She looked bravely at Mrs. Lakeman though her heart was sinking, for she knew that the old life at Woodside Farm was forever at an end. And if he brought this title back with him, might it not cause people to come round him who had never thought of coming before, people who would think her inferior, and let her see what they thought, just as this Mrs. Lakeman did? She couldn't understand it, for the pride of race was in her, too. Had she not come of people who had belonged to the land—God's beautiful land—and spent their lives looking after it, faithful to their wives, bringing up their children to do right? There had not been a stain on their records for generations past—neither drunkard nor bankrupt nor anything of the sort had belonged to them. Suddenly she remembered Mrs. Lakeman.
"Perhaps, as you have to go almost directly, you would like to see the garden, too?" She got up, and for a moment she looked like an empress putting an end to an interview.