“They shall take nothing from you that I can hold for you,” he said, drawing his breath hard.  “I won’t believe yet that they can take anything from you.  You were made for the place, and—­well, you may fill it still.  But whatever comes, you shall have all that I can give you—­all!”

It scarcely seemed as if he were speaking to a child, there was such determination in his face and voice; it was more as if he were making a promise to himself—­and perhaps he was.

He had never before known how deep a hold upon him his fondness for the boy and his pride in him had taken.  He had never seen his strength and good qualities and beauty as he seemed to see them now.  To his obstinate nature it seemed impossible—­more than impossible—­to give up what he had so set his heart upon.  And he had determined that he would not give it up without a fierce struggle.

Within a few days after she had seen Mr. Havisham, the woman who claimed to be Lady Fauntleroy presented herself at the Castle, and brought her child with her.  She was sent away.  The Earl would not see her, she was told by the footman at the door; his lawyer would attend to her case.  It was Thomas who gave the message, and who expressed his opinion of her freely afterward, in the servants’ hall.  He “hoped,” he said, “as he had wore livery in ’igh famblies long enough to know a lady when he see one, an’ if that was a lady he was no judge o’ females.”

“The one at the Lodge,” added Thomas loftily, “’Merican or no ’Merican, she’s one o’ the right sort, as any gentleman ’u’d reckinize with all a heye.  I remarked it myself to Henery when fust we called there.”

The woman drove away; the look on her handsome, common face half frightened, half fierce.  Mr. Havisham had noticed, during his interviews with her, that though she had a passionate temper, and a coarse, insolent manner, she was neither so clever nor so bold as she meant to be; she seemed sometimes to be almost overwhelmed by the position in which she had placed herself.  It was as if she had not expected to meet with such opposition.

“She is evidently,” the lawyer said to Mrs. Errol, “a person from the lower walks of life.  She is uneducated and untrained in everything, and quite unused to meeting people like ourselves on any terms of equality.  She does not know what to do.  Her visit to the Castle quite cowed her.  She was infuriated, but she was cowed.  The Earl would not receive her, but I advised him to go with me to the Dorincourt Arms, where she is staying.  When she saw him enter the room, she turned white, though she flew into a rage at once, and threatened and demanded in one breath.”

The fact was that the Earl had stalked into the room and stood, looking like a venerable aristocratic giant, staring at the woman from under his beetling brows, and not condescending a word.  He simply stared at her, taking her in from head to foot as if she were some repulsive curiosity.  He let her talk and demand until she was tired, without himself uttering a word, and then he said: