"Mrs. Cumberland," said madam, with a slight stamp. And, in spite of her assumed carelessness, she watched her husband's face for the answer as if she were watching for one of life or death. "Did she impart to you any--any private matter?" "She had none to impart, madam, that I am aware of. I shouldn't think she had. She rambled in her talk a bit, as the dying will do; about our old days, and about the anonymous letter that killed Edmund. There was nothing else, except that she wanted me to take temporary charge of Miss Ellen Adair, until we can hear from her father." Mr. North was too simply honest to deceive, and madam believed him. Her old arrogance resumed its sway as fear died out. "What did she tell you about the father?" "Nothing; not a word, madam: what should she? I tell you mind and speech were both all but gone. She rambled on about the old days and the anonymous letter and I couldn't follow her even in that, but she said nothing else." All was right then. The old will and the old arrogance reasserted themselves; madam was herself again. "Miss Adair goes back to Mrs. Cumberland's to-night," said she. "I do not receive her, or permit her to remain here." "What?" cried Mr. North; and Richard, who had just entered, stood still to listen. "Why not, madam?" "Because I do not choose to," said madam. "That's why." "Madam, I wouldn't do it for the world. Send her back to the house with the dead lying in it, and where she'd have no protector! I couldn't do it. She's but a young thing. The neighbours would cry shame upon me." "She goes back at once," spoke madam in her most decisive tones. "The carriage may take her, as it rains; but back she goes." "It can't be, madam, it can't, indeed. I'm her guardian, now, and responsible for her. I promised that she should stay at Dallory Hall." And madam went forth with into another of her furious rages; she stamped and shook with passion. Not at being thwarted: her will was always law, and she intended it to be so now; but at Mr. North's _attempting_ to oppose it. "You were a fool for bringing her at all, knowing as you might that I should not allow her to stay here," raved madam. "The hall is mine: so long as I am mistress of it, no girl that I don't choose to receive shall find admittance here. _She goes lack at once_." Mr. North seemed ready to fall. The look of despair, piteous in its utter helplessness, came into his face. Richard drew nearer, and caught his expression. All this had taken place in the hall under the great lamp. "Dick, what's to be done?" wailed Mr. North. "I should die of the shame of turning her out again. I wish I could die; I've been wishing it many times to-night. It's time I was gone, Dick, when I've no longer a roof to offer a poor young lady for a week or two's shelter."