“My mother was a very religious woman. That is, she tested everything by her conscience, and always held that that was an unfailing standard.”
It was really quite wonderful on what a high platform I could conduct a conversation.
Mr. and Mrs. Gascoyne came in, and we went to dinner. The affection that had arisen between these two women was quite extraordinary, and it was surprising to see Miss Gascoyne yielding to her aunt something of the deference of a daughter, although I am certain she would have rejected the insinuation that she could ever put anyone in the place of the mother she had idolised.
The conversation turned on the Gascoyne family.
“Do you know,” said Mr. Gascoyne, “I was quite astonished to find how near our friend Israel is to the succession.”
It was an awkward remark, and Mr. Gascoyne evidently felt it to be so as soon as he had made it. The subject was allowed to drop at the moment, but Mr. Gascoyne revived it when we were alone.
“I can’t think how I came to make such a foolish remark, Israel. It cannot have failed to remind them both of what you have gained by their loss.”
This was exactly what I feared.
“I cannot be said to have gained much. Lord Gascoyne has a son and heir.”
“Let us consider. If Lord Gascoyne and his son were to die, you succeed as heir to your mother; that is, of course, when the two Henry Gascoynes, Ughtred, and myself, are out of the way—and none of us count for much. You see, the succession does not reach the female heir till it has been carried down to the last male heir. Rather hard on the women of the female lines, but so it is.”