“First of all,” resumed Ethel, “Uncle Matthew, in his letter, states it as his belief that the—the person who passed me off on board ship as being her child was not in reality my mother, but he omits to give any reason for such a belief. You were there. Can you tell me what his reasons were, or what was your own belief in the matter?”
Tamsin’s needle stopped in the middle of a stitch. She did not reply at once, but seemed to be considering within herself in what terms she should answer the question.
“My belief was the same as Mr. Matthew’s,” at length she replied. “Mrs. Vane had not been two days on board before I said to myself, ‘It’s very strange to me if that woman is that child’s mother.’ It was not merely that she didn’t seem to care about you, and was never so pleased as when you were out of her sight, but from a score of different things, each a trifle in itself, that I so judged her.”
“Was she—was she a lady?”
Tamsin shook her head. “She was not what I should call a lady, and I think I know a real lady when I see one as well as most people. She was not at all bad-looking, but as full of vanity as a peacock. Even at breakfast-time she always appeared in a silk or satin gown, with a lot of jewellery about her, which is not what ladies are in the habit of doing. Then, she used to make little slips in her talk, so that one could form a pretty good guess that her bringing up had been nothing particular. Her greatest delight was to flirt and carry on with the unmarried gentlemen on board, who used to encourage her in every way they could think of; just to make fun of her afterwards among themselves. But, with all her faults, hers was a dreadful fate—poor thing! To be laughing and giggling one minute, and playing off; as she supposed, one admirer against another, and the next to be overboard in the great black waste of waters! One wild despairing shriek came borne to our ears, and then all was silence. Oh, it was terrible!”
There was a long pause, and then Tamsin said: “I suppose, dearie, that Mr. Matthew in his letter told you about a certain person coming to the ship and inquiring for his sister, and of his recognising her in a photograph of Mrs. Vane which was shown him?”
Ethel nodded assent.
“And you would also be told how the man in question stated that his sister had gone out as lady’s-maid only a little while before, that she was unmarried, and that it was impossible you should be her child?”
“Uncle Matthew’s letter told me all that.”
“Then, do you think, yourself, that any further evidence is needed to prove that, whoever else’s daughter you may be, you are not the child of the woman who called herself Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane?”