Lady Graves’s note to Henry was true in substance, but it was not the whole truth. She was still an able and an energetic woman, and her mind had not been idle during those days when she kept her room, refusing to see her son. On the contrary, she considered the position in all its bearings, recalling every word of her interviews with Henry, and of Joan’s letter to him, no sentence of which had escaped her memory. After much thinking she came to a conclusion namely, that while it would be absolutely useless to make any further attempt to turn Henry from his purpose, it was by no means certain that the girl herself could not be appealed to with success. She recollected that, according to Henry’s story, Joan had all along declined to entertain the idea of marrying him, and that even in the mad rhapsody which Mrs. Bird had forwarded, she stated that she could never suffer such a thing, because it would mean his ruin. Of course, as she was well aware, should these two once meet it was probable, it was almost certain, that Joan Haste would be persuaded to retract her self-denying ordinance, and to allow herself to be made Henry’s wife and a respectable member of society. The woman who was so circumstanced and did otherwise would be more than human, seeing that her own honour and the honour of her child were at stake, and that consent meant social advancement to her, and the lifelong gratification of a love which, however guilty it might have been in its beginning, was evidently sincere. But if she could be appealed to _before_ they met, it might be different. At any rate it seemed to Lady Graves that the experiment was worth trying. Should she be justified in making such an appeal? This girl had been wronged, and she had rights: could she then be asked to forego those rights? Lady Graves answered the question in the affirmative. She was not a hard and worldly woman, like her daughter, nor was she careful of her own advantage in this matter, but her dead husband’s wishes were sacred to her and she had her son’s best interests at heart. Moreover, she was of opinion, with Ellen, that a man has no right to undo his family, and bring the struggle of generations to an inglorious end, in order that he may gratify a personal passion or even fulfil a personal duty. It was better that this girl should be wronged, if indeed she was wronged, and that Henry should suffer some remorse and shame, than that a day should come when others would learn that the family had been ousted of its place and heritage because he had chosen to pay a debt of honour at their expense.