Mrs. Kelvin was a handsome, stately old lady, with silvery hair and gold-rimmed spectacles. She wore a richly brocaded dress, a China crape shawl--even in the house she always wore a shawl--and a black lace cap of elaborate construction. To see her sitting in her easy chair by the fire, no one would have suspected her of being an invalid; but for many years past she had suffered from a spinal complaint which almost entirely disabled her from walking.
"But we shall soon lose Olive now," added Mrs. Kelvin, a moment or two later.
"Indeed! bow's that?" asked Kelvin, indifferently.
"She is going to Stammars, as governess to Lady Dudgeon's two little girls. At her own terms, too--a hundred guineas a year."
"Well done, Olive!" cried the lawyer. "A clever girl, very; but I'm afraid that she and Lady Dudgeon won't agree long together."
"She may perhaps have a private reason of her own for so readily accepting Lady Dudgeon's offer. Mind, dear, I only say she may have; I don't say she has."
Matthew Kelvin knew that it was expected of him to show some curiosity in the matter.
"Shall I be set down as unduly inquisitive," he said, "if I ask you to tell me what you suppose this private reason to be?"
"I think it quite possible that Olive may be willing to go to Stammars, because--well, because Mr. Pomeroy will be there also."
Mrs. Kelvin drew her shawl round her with quite a relish, and shook her head meaningly at her son.