“I know what you have come here for,” she said. “You have come here to ask questions. Spare yourself, and spare me. I warn you beforehand that I will not answer any questions relating to my son.”
It was firmly, but not harshly said. I spoke firmly in my turn.
“I have not come here, madam, to ask questions about your son,” I answered. “I have come, if you will excuse me, to ask you a question about yourself.”
She started, and looked at me keenly over her spectacles. I had evidently taken her by surprise.
“What is the question?” she inquired.
“I now know for the first time, madam, that your name is Macallan,” I said. “Your son has married me under the name of Woodville. The only honorable explanation of this circumstance, so far as I know, is that my husband is your son by a first marriage. The happiness of my life is at stake. Will you kindly consider my position? Will you let me ask you if you have been twice married, and if the name of your first husband was Woodville?”
She considered a little before she replied.
“The question is a perfectly natural one in your position,” she said. “But I think I had better not answer it.”
“May I ask why?”
“Certainly. If I answered you, I should only lead to other questions, and I should be obliged to decline replying to them. I am sorry to disappoint you. I repeat what I said on the beach—I have no other feeling than a feeling of sympathy toward you. If you had consulted me before your marriage, I should willingly have admitted you to my fullest confidence. It is now too late. You are married. I recommend you to make the best of your position, and to rest satisfied with things as they are.”