And now Sir Hugh had a commission on his hands from the same Courton people, which made it necessary that he should see his sister-in-law, and Julia had agreed to receive him.  To him, who was very hard in such matters, the idea of his visit was not made disagreeable by any remembrance of his own harshness to the woman whom he was going to see.  He cared nothing about that, and it had not occurred to him that she would care much.  But, in truth, she did care very much, and when the hour was coming on which Sir Hugh was to appear, she thought much of the manner in which it would become her to receive him.  He had condemned her in that matter as to which any condemnation is an insult to a woman, and he had so condemned her, being her brother-in-law and her only natural male friend.  In her sorrow she should have been able to lean upon him; but from the first, without any inquiry, he had believed the worst of her, and had withdrawn from her altogether his support, when the slightest support from him would have been invaluable to her.  Could she forgive this?  Never! never!  She was not a woman to wish to forgive such an offence.  It was an offence which it would be despicable in her to forgive.  Many had offended her, some had injured her, one or two had insulted her; but, to her thinking, no one had so offended her, had so injured her, had so grossly insulted her as he had done.  In what way, then, would it become her to receive him?

Before his arrival she had made up her mind on this subject, and had resolved that she would, at least, say no word of her own wrongs.

“How do you do, Julia?” said Sir Hugh, walking into the room with a step which was perhaps unnaturally quick, and with his hand extended.  Lady Ongar had thought of that, too.  She would give much to escape the touch of his hand, if it were possible; but she had told herself that she would best consult her own dignity by declaring no actual quarrel.  So she put out her fingers and just touched his palm.

“I hope Hermy is well?” she said.

“Pretty well, thank you.  She is rather lonely since she lost her poor little boy, and would be very glad if you would go to her.”

“I cannot do that, but if she would come to me I should be delighted.”

“You see it would not suit her to be in London so soon after Hughy’s death.”

“I am not bound to London.  I would go anywhere else—­except to Clavering.”

“You never go to Ongar Park, I am told.”

“I have been there.”

“But they say you do not intend to go again.”

“Not at present, certainly.  Indeed, I do not suppose I shall ever go there.  I do not like the place.”

“That’s just what they have told me.  It is about that—­partly—­that I want to speak to you.  If you don’t like the place, why shouldn’t you sell your interest in it back to the family?  They’d give you more than the value for it.”

“I do not know that I should care to sell it.”