"So, for twenty years you have secretly carried on your father's trade. Whilst your children have lacked education and common necessaries, you have hoarded money and been the ruin of hundreds. And I thought, till to-day, that I was beyond the reach of shame! I thought that after long penance I might once more venture out and face the world. My cousin is dead and, as Mr. Lepell is aware, I have been summoned to England to take up my place there as head of the family. Since Nicky is gone, there is no heir to come after me; but for the sake of my girls I had almost decided to claim my own. This," turning fiercely on her, "I will never do now. Do you suppose I will put such a woman as _you_ in my aunt's place? No, I will let my name be called across the seas in vain. I will live and die out here--an obscure Anglo-Indian." At the name of Charne, and the news of her husband's succession to the property, Mrs. Chandos' face changed, her eyes lit up like beacons. "Bah! you old guddah!" she cried, "these men have stuffed your head with silly nonsense; if I did take interest, what harm? I traded with my own money. As to Charne--since you are hanging back, _I_ will go to England, and claim it _for_ you." From many years of terrible experience her husband knew that she invariably carried out her threats, and in a sudden transport of fear and fury he snatched the picture of Charne off the wall, smashed the glass, and destroyed the sketch. "Idiot!" jeered his wife, "you will be sorry for that to-morrow. You have broken your fetish!" "And these papers," he said, dragging a packet from a drawer, "are the proofs of my identity." He held them towards his wife, and then with a sudden, furious energy, tore them into shreds, and scattered them over the floor. "Charne is only mine for life," he gasped breathlessly, "the place is strictly entailed. For the rest of my days I live here--because of _you_. I am sorry for the girls; and of all my children, I am most sorry for Verona." "Verona!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos, at last finding her voice; her face was working and livid with fury. "You throw away your great estate to punish _me_! Oh, ho! Well, now! see--I will punish you!" She glared at her husband, as if she was going to fly at his throat; then she drew one long breath, and announced with grim composure: "Verona is not our daughter." CHAPTER XL "Oh, ho! yes, it is true what I say," continued Mrs. Chandos, breaking a dead, incredulous silence; "she is no more to us than this book," and she seized a copy of "The Newcomes" and pitched it across the room. "Aré, it is a relief to my heart to speak and to get rid of her," and she turned and looked at Verona; "for ever since I had aught to do with that girl she has been my thorn and curse." "You are beside yourself, Mrs. Chandos," protested Mr. Lepell, "all this excitement is too much for you. Mrs. Lopez, will you not take your daughter away and persuade her to lie down?"