“But you speak as though you thought she had been—­been—­”

“I think she was probably imprudent, but I believe nothing worse than that.  But who can say what is absolutely wrong, and what only imprudent?  I think she was too proud to go really astray.  And then with such a man as that, so difficult and so ill-tempered—!  Sir Hugh thinks—­” But at that moment the door was opened and Sir Hugh came in.

“What does Sir Hugh think?” said he.

“We were speaking of Lord Ongar,” said Harry, sitting up and shaking hands with his cousin.

“Then, Harry, you were speaking on a subject that I would rather not have discussed in this house.  Do you understand that, Hermione?  I will have no talking about Lord Ongar or his wife.  We know very little, and what we hear is simply uncomfortable.  Will you dine here to-day, Harry?”

“Thank you, no; I have only just come home.”

“And I am just going away.  That is, I go to-morrow.  I cannot stand this place.  I think it the dullest neighborhood in all England, and the most gloomy house I ever saw.  Hermione likes it.”

To this last assertion Lady Clavering expressed no assent; nor did she venture to contradict him.

Chapter V

Lady Ongar’s Return

But Sir Hugh did not get away from Clavering Park on the next morning, as he had intended.  There came to him that same afternoon a message by telegraph, to say that Lord Ongar was dead.  He had died at Florence on the afternoon of Christmas-day, and Lady Ongar had expressed her intention of coming at once to England.

“Why the devil doesn’t she stay where she is?” said Sir Hugh, to his wife.  “People would forget her there, and in twelve months time the row would be all over.”

“Perhaps she does not want to be forgotten,” said Lady Clavering.

“Then she should want it.  I don’t care whether she has been guilty or not.  When a woman gets her name into such a mess as that, she should keep in the background.”

“I think you are unjust to her, Hugh.”

“Of course you do.  You don’t suppose that I expect anything else.  But if you mean to tell me that there would have been all this row if she had been decently prudent, I tell you that you’re mistaken.”

“Only think what a man he was.”

She knew that when she took him, and should have borne with him while he lasted.  A woman isn’t to have seven thousand a year for nothing.”

“But you forget that not a syllable has been proved against her, or been attempted to be proved.  She has never left him, and now she has been with him in his last moments.  I don’t think you ought to be the first to turn against her.”

“If she would remain abroad, I would do the best I could for her.  She chooses to return home; and as I think she’s wrong, I won’t have her here—­that’s all.  You don’t suppose that I go about the world accusing her?”