Everything in the room was in its place, and had been in its place for
years. Sir James got no help from the contemplation of it.
The door opened, and Lady Lucy came quietly in. Sir James looked at her
sharply as they shook hands. She had more color than usual; but the
result was to make the face look older, and certain lines in it
disagreeably prominent. Very likely she had been crying. He hoped
she had.
"Oliver told you to expect me?"
She assented. Then, still standing, she looked at him steadily.
"This is a very terrible affair, Sir James."
"Yes. It must have been a great shock to you."
"Oh! that does not matter," she said, impatiently. "I must not think of
myself. I must think of Oliver. Will you sit down?"
She motioned him, in her stately way, to a seat. He realized, as he
faced her, that he beheld her in a new aspect. She was no longer the
gracious and smiling hostess, as her familiar friends knew her, both at
Tallyn and in London. Her manner threw a sudden light on certain
features in her history: Marsham's continued dependence on his mother
and inadequate allowance, the autocratic ability shown in the management
of the Tallyn household and estates, management in which Marsham was
allowed practically no share at all, and other traits and facts long
known to him.
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