“No;—­I do not say that”

“It is possible that he may recover?”

“Certainly it is possible.  What is not possible with God?”

“Ah;—­that means that he will die.”  Then she sat herself down and almost unconsciously took off her bonnet and laid it aside.  Lady Ushant, then looking into her face for the first time, was at a loss to understand what she had heard of her beauty.  Could it be the same girl of whom Mrs. Hopkins had spoken and of whose brilliant beauty Reginald had repeated what he had heard?  She was haggard, almost old, with black lines round her eyes.  There was nothing soft or gracious in the tresses of her hair.  When Lady Ushant had been young men had liked hair such as was that of Mary Masters.  Arabella’s yellow locks,—­whencesoever they might have come,—­were rough and uncombed.  But it was the look of age, and the almost masculine strength of the lower face which astonished Lady Ushant the most.  “Has he spoken to you about me?” she said.

“Not to me.”  Then Lady Ushant went on to explain that though she was there now as the female representative of the family she had never been so intimate with John Morton as to admit of such confidence as that suggested.

“I wonder whether he can love me,” said the girl.

“Assuredly he does, Miss Trefoil.  Why else should he send for you?”

“Because he is an honest man.  I hardly think that he can love me much.  He was to have been my husband, but he will escape that.  If I thought that he would live I would tell him that he was free.”

“He would not want to be free.”

“He ought to want it.  I am not fit for him.  I have come here, Lady Ushant, because I want to tell him the truth.”

“But you love him?” Arabella made no answer, but sat looking steadily into Lady Ushant’s face.  “Surely you do love him.”

“I do not know.  I don’t think I did love him,—­though now I may.  It is so horrible that he should die, and die while all this is going on.  That softens one you know.  Have you ever heard of Lord Rufford?”

“Lord Rufford;—­the young man?”

“Yes;—­the young man.”

“Never particularly.  I knew his father.”

“But not this man?  Mr. Morton never spoke you of him.”

“Not a word.”

“I have been engaged to him since I became engaged to your nephew.”

“Engaged to Lord Rufford,—­to marry him?”

“Yes;—­indeed.”

“And will you marry him?”

“I cannot say.  I tell you this, Lady Ushant, because I must tell somebody in this house.  I have behaved very badly to Mr. Morton, and Lord Rufford is behaving as badly to me.”

“Did John know of this?”