“To London!”
“Yes—on her way to Limmeridge.”
Lady Glyde turned and appealed to me.
“You saw Miss Halcombe last,” she said. “Tell me plainly, Mrs. Michelson, did you think she looked fit to travel?”
“Not in my opinion, your ladyship.”
Sir Percival, on his side, instantly turned and appealed to me also.
“Before you went away,” he said, “did you, or did you not, tell the nurse that Miss Halcombe looked much stronger and better?”
“I certainly made the remark, Sir Percival.”
He addressed her ladyship again the moment I offered that reply.
“Set one of Mrs. Michelson’s opinions fairly against the other,” he said, “and try to be reasonable about a perfectly plain matter. If she had not been well enough to be moved do you think we should any of us have risked letting her go? She has got three competent people to look after her—Fosco and your aunt, and Mrs. Rubelle, who went away with them expressly for that purpose. They took a whole carriage yesterday, and made a bed for her on the seat in case she felt tired. To-day, Fosco and Mrs. Rubelle go on with her themselves to Cumberland.”