Miss Corny did not believe her own ears.  “Go back to my own home!” she exclaimed.  “I shall do nothing of the sort.  I shall stop at East Lynne.  What’s to hinder me?”

Mr. Carlyle shook his head.  “It cannot be,” he said, in a low, decisive tone.

“Who says so?” she sharply asked.

“I do.  Have you forgotten that night—­when she went away—­the words spoken by Joyce?  Cornelia, whether they were true or false, I will not subject another to the chance.”

She did not answer.  Her lips parted and closed again.  Somehow, Miss Carlyle could not bear to be reminded of that revelation of Joyce’s; it subdued even her.

“I cast no reflection upon you,” hastily continued Mr. Carlyle.  “You have been a mistress of a house for many years, and you naturally look to be so; it is right you should.  But two mistresses in a house do not answer, Cornelia; they never did, and they never will.”

“Why did you not give me so much of your sentiments when I first came to East Lynne?” she burst forth.  “I hate hypocrisy.”

“They were not my sentiments then; I possessed none.  I was ignorant upon the subject as I was upon many others.  Experience has come to me since.”

“You will not find a better mistress of a house than I have made you,” she resentfully spoke.

“I do not look for it.  The tenants leave your house in March, do they not?”

“Yes, they do,” snapped Miss Corny.  “But as we are on the subject of details of ways and means, allow me to tell you that if you did what is right, you would move into that house of mine, and I will go to a smaller—­as you seem to think I shall poison Barbara if I remain with her.  East Lynne is a vast deal too fine and too grand for you.”

“I do not consider it so.  I shall not quit East Lynne.”

“Are you aware that, in leaving your house, I take my income with me, Archibald?”

“Most certainly.  Your income is yours, and you will require it for your own purposes.  I have neither a right to, nor wish for it.”

“It will make a pretty good hole in your income, the withdrawing of it, I can tell you that.  Take care that you and East Lynne don’t go bankrupt together.”

At this moment the summons of a visitor was heard.  Even that excited the ire of Miss Carlyle.  “I wonder who’s come bothering to-night?” she uttered.

Peter entered.  “It is Major Thorn, sir.  I have shown him into the drawing-room.”

Mr. Carlyle was surprised.  He had not thought Major Thorn within many a mile of West Lynne.  He proceeded to the drawing-room.

“Such a journey!” said Major Thorn to Mr. Carlyle.  “It is my general luck to get ill-weather when I travel.  Rain and hail, thunder and heat; nothing bad comes amiss when I am out.  The snow lay on the rails, I don’t know how thick; at one station we were detained two hours.”

“Are you proposing to make any stay at West Lynne?”