‘Anyway I am Mrs Vere,’ retorted the other, ‘and my husband has died intestate, and his property belongs to me, so I’ll thank you to take your brat, and clear out of my house before the sun goes down.’ ‘Oh! mother, this is infamous! It can never be!’ ‘It _must_ be, Charlie! It is the law. I knew all this when I consented to come here as your father’s wife. He never deceived me for a single moment; and if I have any regret that he put off providing against this contingency until it was too late, it is only for fear lest he should be regretting it also. But, my dear, _dear_ love!’ she added in a lower tone, ‘I acquit you of this as of all things. I know your great love for me never failed, and I am content!’ ‘I will not believe it without further proof!’ I exclaimed. ‘I will send Ellen at once for the solicitor. I cannot leave you alone with this horrid woman!’ ‘Hush, Charlie! she is your mother.’ ‘I will not acknowledge it. _You_ are the only mother I have ever had—the only mother I ever will have to my life’s end.’ Mr Chorberry, the solicitor, came without delay, but he could give me no comfort. My poor father, by that strange indifference which has been the curse of so many, had put off making his will until it was too late, by reason of which he had left the one to whom he owed most in the world, the woman who had sacrificed friends and reputation to spend her life in a dull country home, administering to his pleasures, entirely dependent on her own resources for support—whilst the faithless, drunken creature he had the misfortune to be still chained to, walked in as the lawful wife, and claimed her share of the property. There was only one drop of balm in his decision. I, as my father’s son, shared what he had left behind him, but my angel mother and dear baby-sister were cast upon the world to shift for themselves. And this was the law. Oh, father! did your spirit look down from whichever sphere it had been translated to, and witness this? ‘But, surely,’ I said to Chorberry, ‘there can be no necessity for my mother leaving Lilyfields before the funeral?’ ‘Of course there is no necessity; but do you think it advisable, under the circumstances, that she should remain? Mrs Vere has the legal power to enforce her departure, and I am afraid will not be slow to use it.’ My mother evidently was of one mind with him, for in an incredibly short space of time she had packed her belongings. Mrs Vere, standing over her meanwhile to see she did not purloin anything from the house, and was waiting in the hall with little Violet, ready to go to the house of the clergyman’s wife, who, to her honour, having heard how matters stood at Lilyfields, had promptly sent my mother an invitation to the vicarage for the night. ‘Are you ready, dear mother?’ I said sadly, as I joined her in the hall, and drew her arm within my own.