She had already expressed her indignation about the _Herald_
article to Oliver that morning, on the drive which had been so
tragically interrupted.
"Dear Lady Lucy!"
She looked up. Sir James Chide stood beside her.
The first thing he did was to draw her to her feet, and then to move her
chair into the shade.
"You have lost more than any of us," he said, as she sank back into it,
and, holding out his hand, he took hers into his warm compassionate
clasp. He had never thought that she behaved well to Ferrier, and he
knew that she had behaved vilely to Diana; but his heart melted within
him at the sight of a woman--and a gray-haired woman--in grief.
"I hear you found Broadstone's letter?" He glanced at it on her lap. "I
too have heard from him. The messenger, as soon as he knew I was here,
produced a letter for me that he was to have taken on to Lytchett. It is
a nice letter--a very nice letter, as far as that goes. Broadstone
wanted me to use my influence--with John--described his difficulties--"
Chide's hand suddenly clinched on his knee.
"--If I could only get at that creature, Lord Philip!"
"You think it was the shock--killed him?" The hard slow tears had begun
again to drop upon her dress.
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