“Ah!” she said, hastily, “Lady Thesiger does not approve of carte blanche to ambitious cousins.”

Lady Thesiger really restrained herself; she was tempted to speak—­I saw that—­but refrained.

“The best plan,” said Sir John, calmly, “would be for Mademoiselle d’Aubergne to say what she herself wishes.”

“I will tell you,” she replied, “what I claim.”

Then, as we looked up at her in wonder, she continued, with bland calmness: 

“I claim as my own and right, on the part of my infant son, the whole of the estate and revenues of Crown Anstey.  I claim, as widow of the late Miles Trevelyan, Esq., my share of all due to me at his death.”

A thunder-bolt falling in our midst would not have alarmed us as those words did.  Sir John looked sternly at her.

“In the name of heaven, what do you mean?”

“Just what I say, Sir John.  I was the wife, and am now the widow, of the late Miles Trevelyan, Esq.”

“But that is monstrous!” he cried.  “Miles was never married.”

“Miles was married to me, Sir John.”

“But we must have proof; your word goes for nothing.  There must be indisputable proof of such an assertion.”

She smiled with quiet superiority.

“Knowing with whom I have to contend, it is not probable that I should assert anything false.  I am prepared to prove everything I say.”

My darling’s face grew white as death.  I was bewildered.  If this were true—­oh, my God! if it were true—­fortune, love and everything else were lost.

“Where were you married?” asked Sir John.

“At Edgerton—­St. Helen’s, Edgerton.  The Rev. Henry Morton married us, and the two witnesses were Sarah Smith, who was my maid, and Arthur Ireton, who was head game-keeper here at Crown Anstey.”

It was so quickly told and so seemingly correct, we looked at each other in amaze.

“We must examine into it,” said Sir John, “before going any further.”

“That will be best,” she replied, composedly.  “I had better explain that Miles, poor fellow, fell in love with me the first time he saw me.  Sir Barnard would not hear of such a thing.  He told Miles that if he persisted in marrying me he would curse him.  Perhaps he had his own reasons for not liking me.  His son tried to obey him, but I am proud to say that the love Miles had for me was far stronger than fear of his father.  Still, for pecuniary reasons he did not care to offend him, so we were married privately the second year of my stay at Crown Anstey.”

She turned to Lady Thesiger with a mocking smile.

“I know perfectly well,” she said, “why your ladyship has never liked me.  You met me walking one evening with Miles Trevelyan in the Anstey woods; you saw him kiss me.  You know, now, that he was my husband and had a right to kiss me if he chose.”

Lady Thesiger bowed very stiffly.

“Two years after our marriage,” Coralie continued, “my little son, called Rupert, after the Crusader Trevelyan, was born.  Under the pretense of visiting some of my relations, I went to Lincoln.  In the registry of the church of St. Morton Friars you will find the proper attestation of my son’s birth.”