[_Impatiently._] You’ve already said she wasn’t in your family! And she certainly wasn’t in mine! [_She turns peremptorily to_ MARTIN.] Will you please tell us who she was? And why her portrait is here? MARTIN. [_Watching_ LYDIA.] Why, Madam, Mr. Sanford had it put here to surprise her, her becoming his bride in the little church here to-morrow! LYDIA. [_With a great effort._] His bride--to-morrow? RICHARD. [_Gravely._] Then she’s alive? MARTIN. [_Looking from one to the other._] Why, yes, sir, to be sure she’s alive! RICHARD. [_Puzzled._] But her frock? My wife was quite certain, and so was I, that her frock was--er--well, I don’t like to say anything against the lady, but, well, you know, rather old-fashioned, to say the least! [_With an admiring glance at_ LYDIA’S _panniers_.] You can see--there’s rather a difference----! MARTIN. [_With the ghost of a smile._] There is, indeed, sir! [_Resuming, practically._] But I have often heard Mr. Sanford say, sir, that all Mrs. McCormorant’s gowns are in the height of fashion! LYDIA. [_Prettily nettled._] I trust you don’t mean to imply---- MARTIN. [_Courteously._] I imply nothing to your disfavor, Madam----! LYDIA. [_Restlessly._] Of course her frock is of no consequence--nor her being married--but--why should her portrait be here--[_A sudden break in her voice._] here in Bird’s Nest? RICHARD. [_With a note of authority._] Yes, that’s what we don’t care for! Why should her portrait be here, in our parlor? MARTIN. [_Simply._] Why, so they can both admire it, I suppose, sir, after she comes to live here to-morrow! LYDIA. [_Falling with a cry into_ RICHARD’S _arms_.] Oh, Richard! I--I feel faint! RICHARD. [_Tenderly carrying her to the garden bench_, MARTIN _following them_.] There, there, my darling! [_On his knees, to her._] Shall I fetch your salts? LYDIA. [_As she clings to him_, MARTIN, _regarding both, a faint, quizzical sadness in his eyes_.] No, no, it’s not my salts I need! Oh, what did he say, Richard? What did he say? RICHARD. [_Caressing her gently._] It was nothing, my darling! We--[_Vainly trying to repress a quiver in his voice._] we must have misunderstood him! LYDIA. [_Softly repulsing him, sitting bolt upright._] No, I don’t think so! I---- [_Suddenly she hides her face in her hands, in an agony of remembrance._] Oh, Richard, don’t you know? We’ve been mistaken before about--about Bird’s Nest? RICHARD.