“You refer to her fresh lover—eh?” I inquired bitterly.
“Her fresh lover?” she cried in surprise. “I don’t understand you. Who is he, pray?”
“I’m in ignorance of his name.”
“But how do you know of his existence? I have heard nothing of him, and surely she would have told me. All her correspondence, all her poignant grief, and all her regrets have been of you.”
“Mrs. Henniker gave me to understand that my place in your sister’s heart has been filled by another man,” I said, in a hard voice.
“Mrs. Henniker!” she cried in disgust. “Just like that evil-tongued mischief-maker! I’ve told you already that I detest her. She was my friend once—it was she who allured me from my husband’s side. Why she exercises such an influence over poor Ethelwynn, I can’t tell. I do hope she’ll leave their house and come back home. You must try and persuade her to do so.”
“Do you think, then, that the woman has lied?” I asked.
“I’m certain of it. Ethelwynn has never a thought for any man save yourself. I’ll vouch for that.”
“But what object can she have in telling me an untruth?”
The widow smiled.