’And there she died,—­in my arms.  I will not try to harass you by telling you what those few days were; how absolutely he was struck to the ground, how terrible was the grief of the daughter, how the boys were astonished by the feeling of their loss.  After a few days they went away.  It was, I think, their father’s wish that they should go.  And I too was going away,—­and had felt, indeed, directly her spirit had parted from her, that I was only in the way in his house.  But I stayed at his request, because he did not wish his daughter to be alone.’

‘I can easily understand that, Mrs Finn.’

’I wanted her to go to Lady Cantrip who had invited her, but she would not.  In that way we were thrown together in the closest intercourse.  For two or three weeks.  Then she told me the story of your engagement.’

‘That was natural, I suppose.’

’Surely so.  Think of her position, left without a mother!  It was incumbent on her to tell someone.  There was, however, one other person in whom it would have been much better that she should have confided.’

‘What person?’

‘Her father.’

‘I rather fancy that it is I who ought to tell him.’

’As far as I understand things, Mr Tregear,—­which, indeed, is very imperfectly,—­I think it is natural that a girl should at once tell her mother when a gentleman has made her understand that he loves her.’

‘She did so, Mrs Finn.’

‘And I suppose that generally the mother would tell the father.’

‘She did not.’

’No; and therefore the position of the young lady is now one of great embarrassment.  The Duchess has gone from us, and we must now make up our minds as to what had better be done.  It is out of the question that Lady Mary should be allowed to consider herself to be engaged, and that her father should be kept in ignorance of her position.’  She paused for his reply, but as he said nothing, she continued:  ’Either you must tell the Duke, or she must do so, or I must do so.’

‘I suppose she told you in confidence.’

’No doubt.  She told me presuming that I would not betray her; but I shall,—­if that be a betrayal.  The Duke must know it.  It will be infinitely better that he should know it through you, or through her, than through me.  But he must be told.’

‘I can’t quite see why,’ said Tregear.

‘For her sake,—­whom I suppose you love.’

‘Certainly I love her.’

’In order that she may not suffer.  I wonder you do not see it, Mr Tregear.  Perhaps you have a sister.’

‘I have no sister as it happens.’

’But you can imagine what your feelings would be.  Should you like to think of a sister as being engaged to a man without the knowledge of any of her family?’

’It was not so.  The Duchess knew it.  The present condition of things is altogether an accident.’

‘It is an accident that must be brought to an end.’