In the dusk of the declining
afternoon the black satin and white ruffles of her dress, her white head
in its lace cap, her thin neck and shoulders, her tall slenderness, and
the rigidity of her attitude, made a formidable study in personality.
Sir James's whole soul rose in one scornful and indignant protest. But
he felt himself beaten. The only hope lay in Oliver himself.
He rose slowly from his chair.
"It is useless, I see, to try and argue the matter further. But I warn
you: I do not believe that Oliver will obey you, and--forgive me Lady
Lucy!--but--frankly--I hope he will not. Nor will he suffer too
severely, even if you, his mother, desert him. Miss Mallory has some
fortune--"
"Oliver will not live upon his wife!"
"He may accept her aid till he has found some way of earning money. What
amazes me--if you will allow me the liberty of an old friend--is that
you should think a woman justified in coercing a son of mature age in
such a matter!"
His tone, his manner pierced Lady Lucy's pride. She threw back her head
nervously, but her tone was calm:
"A woman to whom property has been intrusted must do her best to see
that the will and desires of those who placed it in her hands are
carried out!"
"Well, well!"--Sir James looked for his stick--"I am sorry for
Oliver--but"--he straightened himself--"it will make a bigger man
of him.
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