“Why not?”

“It makes them angry.  They cannot bear to hear there’s a possibility of his death.  Margaret may see the danger, but I don’t believe the dowager does.”

“Their wishes must blind them,” observed Lady Laura.  “The dowager seems all fury and folly.  She scarcely gave herself time to welcome me this morning, or to inquire how I was after my long voyage; but began descanting on a host of evils, the chief being that her grandson should have had fever.”

“She would like him to bear a charmed life.  Not for love of him, Laura.”

“What then?”

“I do not believe she has a particle of love for him.  Don’t think me uncharitable; it is the truth; Val will tell you the same.  She is not capable of experiencing common affection for any one; every feeling of her nature is merged in self-interest.  Had her daughter left another boy she would not be dismayed at the prospect of this one’s death; whether he lived or died, it would be all one to her.  The grievance is that Reginald should have the chance of succeeding.”

“Because he is your son.  I understand.  A vain, puffed-up old thing! the idea of her still painting her face and wearing false curls!  I wonder you tolerate her in your house, Anne!  She’s always here.”

“How can I help myself?  She considers, I believe, that she has more right in this house than I have.”

“Does she make things uncomfortable?”

“More so than I have ever confessed, even to my husband.  From the hour of my marriage she set the two children against me, and against my children when they came; and she never ceases to do so still.”

“Why do you submit to it?”

“She is their grandmother, and I cannot well deny her the house.  Val might do so, but he does not.  Perhaps I should have had courage to attempt it, for the children’s own sake, it is so shocking to train them to ill-nature, but that he appears to think as she does.  The petty disputes between the children are frequent—­for my two elder ones are getting of an age to turn again when put upon—­but their father never corrects Edward and Maude, or allows them to be corrected; let them do what wrong they will, he takes their part.  I believe that if Edward killed one of my children, he would only caress him.”

Lady Laura turned her eyes on the speaker’s face, on its flush of pain and mortification.

“And Val loved you:  and did not love Maude!  What does it mean, Anne?”

“I cannot tell you.  Things altogether are growing more than I can bear.”

“Margaret has been with you some time; has she not interfered, or tried to put things upon a right footing?”

Anne shook her head.  “She espouses the dowager’s side; upholds the two children in their petty tyranny.  No one in the house takes my part, or my children’s.”

“That is just like Margaret.  Do you remember how you and I used to dread her domineering spirit when we were girls?  It’s time I came, I think, to set things right.”