It was not till they were summoned to dine together that she saw Lady Ushant.  Very many years had passed since last they were together, and yet neither seemed to the other to be much changed.  Lady Ushant was still soft, retiring, and almost timid; whereas Mrs. Morton showed her inclination to domineer even in the way in which she helped herself to salt.  While the servant was with them very little was said on either side.  There was a word or two from Mrs. Morton to show that she considered herself the mistress there,—­and a word from the other lady proclaiming that she had no pretensions of that kind.  But after dinner in the little drawing-room they were more communicative.  Something of course was said as to the health of the invalid.  Lady Ushant was not the woman to give a pronounced opinion on such a subject.  She used doubtful, hesitating words, and would in one minute almost contradict what she had said in the former.  But Mrs. Morton was clever enough to perceive that Lady Ushant was almost without hope.  Then she made a little speech with a fixed purpose.  “It must be a great trouble to you, Lady Ushant, to be so long away from home.”

“Not at all,” said Lady Ushant in perfect innocence.  “I have nothing to bind me anywhere.”

“I shall think it my duty to remain here now,—­till the end.”

“I suppose so.  He has always been almost the same to you as your own.”

“Quite so; quite the same.  He is my own.”  And yet,—­she left him in his illness!  She, too, had heard something from Mrs. Hopkins of the temper in which Mrs. Morton had last left Bragton.  “But you are not bound to him in that way.”

“Not in that way certainly.”

“In no way, I may say.  It was very kind of you to come when business made it imperative on me to go to town, but I do not think we can call upon you for further sacrifice.”

“It is no sacrifice, Mrs. Morton.”  Lady Ushant was as meek as a worm, but a worm will turn.  And though innocent, she was quick enough to perceive that at this, their first meeting, the other old woman was endeavouring to turn her out of the house.

“I mean that it can hardly be necessary to call upon you to give up your time.”

“What has an old woman to do with her time, Mrs. Morton?”

Hitherto Mrs. Morton had smiled.  The smile indeed had been grim, but it had been intended to betoken outward civility.  Now there came a frown upon her brow which was more grim and by no means civil.  “The truth is that at such a time one who is almost a stranger—­”

“I am no stranger,” said Lady Ushant.

“You had not seen him since he was an infant”

“My name was Morton as is his, and my dear father was the owner of this house.  Your husband, Mrs. Morton, was his grandfather and my brother.  I will allow no one to tell me that I am a stranger at Bragton.  I have lived here many more years than you.”

“A stranger to him, I meant.  And now that he is ill—­”