“My son has married Miss Silvester?”
“Yes.”
She turned deadly pale. It appeared, for an instant, as if the shock had completely overwhelmed her. But the mother’s weakness was only momentary The virtuous indignation of the great lady had taken its place before Sir Patrick could speak again. She rose to terminate the interview.
“I presume,” she said, “that your errand here is as an end.”
Sir Patrick rose, on his side, resolute to do the duty which had brought him to the house.
“I am compelled to trespass on your ladyship’s attention for a few minutes more,” he answered. “The circumstances attending the marriage of Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn are of no common importance. I beg permission (in the interests of his family) to state, very briefly, what they are.”
In a few clear sentences he narrated what had happened, that afternoon, in Portland Place. Lady Holchester listened with the steadiest and coldest attention. So far as outward appearances were concerned, no impression was produced upon her.
“Do you expect me,” she asked, “to espouse the interests of a person who has prevented my son from marrying the lady of his choice, and of mine?”
“Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn, unhappily, has that reason for resenting his wife’s innocent interference with interests of considerable, importance to him,” returned Sir Patrick. “I request your ladyship to consider whether it is desirable—in view of your son’s conduct in the future—to allow his wife to stand in the doubly perilous relation toward him of being also a cause of estrangement between his father and himself.”
He had put it with scrupulous caution. But Lady Holchester understood what he had refrained from saving as well as what he had actually said. She had hitherto remained standing—she now sat down again. There was a visible impression produced on her at last.