‘I trust you have been attended to, Miss Robertson,’ said the hostess.
She despaired of separating her husband and Lady Eliza, and approached Miss Hersey, whose intimate connection with the county made her presence and that of her sister desirable adjuncts to a party. The old lady made room for her on the sofa.
‘Yes, many, many thanks to you; we have enjoyed our evening. Caroline, Mrs. Somerville is asking if we have all we need. We have been very much diverted.’
Miss Caroline smiled; she had not quite caught the drift of her sister’s words, but she felt sure that everything was very pleasant.
Mrs. Somerville did not know whether the vague rumours about Gilbert’s parentage which had been always prevalent, and which had sprung up afresh with his return, had ever reached the old ladies’ ears. Their age and the retirement in which they lived had isolated them for a long time, but she reflected that they had once taken part in the life surrounding them and could hardly have remained in complete ignorance. She longed to ask questions.
‘Mr. Barclay seems a great favourite at Whanland,’ she began.
‘He was there when we went to welcome my cousin,’ replied Miss Hersey; ‘he is his man of business.’
‘He is most agreeable—quite the society man too. I do not wonder that Mr. Speid likes to see him; it is a dull life for a young gentleman to lead alone in the house—such a sad house, too, what with his poor mother’s death there and all the unfortunate talk there was. But I have never given any credit to it, Miss Robertson, and I am sure you will say I was right. I am not one of those who believe everything they hear.’
The old lady made no reply, staring at the speaker; then her face began to assume an expression which Mrs. Somerville, who did not know her very well, had never seen on it, and the surprise which this caused her had the effect of scattering her wits.
‘I despise gossip, as you know,’ she stammered; ‘indeed, I always said—I always say—if there’s anything unkind, do not bring it to me; and I said—what does it matter to me? I said—his poor mother is dead and buried, and if there is anything discreditable——’