‘Is it necessary to ask? Might he not come to see me, or Leo, whom he knows? But no, no, Artémise, I will not deceive you. He has come to find out about that woman--her rights to his name--which she has none, having stolen it, as you know; and to some money that has fallen in, do I care how! He could not have come to a better quarter. I gave him some information.’ ‘What information?’ said Mrs. Brown, sitting up in her chair. ‘I told him all that I knew. You will please to remember it is all I know: that she left the Hall hastily at midnight, that I met her after in Paris bearing his name.’ Mrs. Swinford, too, sat upright, with a colour in her cheeks and a fire in her eyes that recalled something of the beauty of old to her worn face. ‘What do I know more? Nothing,’ she said, with a movement of her hands, which made the rings upon them flash and send out rays like sparks of light. ‘Ah! you told him that?’ ‘There is money in the question,’ said Mrs. Swinford, leaning forward and speaking low, ‘and their object is to find out that she has no rights. He took my hints like milk; they were balm to him. Fancy so many thousand pounds--I know no details--and if not to her they will go to him. Is not that worth the trouble?’ ‘To the man, perhaps, Cecile--but why to you?’ ‘To me much more than to him,’ she said, with flashing eyes. ‘Why?’ ‘You are stupid to-night,’ said Mrs. Swinford coldly; ‘not for a long time, for many years, have I found you so before.’ ‘Because,’ said Mrs. Brown, ‘this that you have said is, as you are aware, not----’ ‘Your scruples are engaging, they are beautiful, they are something to put in a story-book,’ said the lady. ‘You to stand for that! You, who----’ ‘It is better not to go too far. I have done a great many reckless things. I am a reckless woman altogether, and have not cared what became of me for many a long day: but I have never done anything like that. Ah yes, I have scruples; every one has, you even, if one knew where to look for them.’ ‘It was you,’ said Mrs. Swinford, ‘who made the suggestion at the first.’ ‘To save you, Cecile, to save you.’ ‘I should have found some other way to get out of it. There was never a difficulty yet but I found a way of getting out of it. I should have done so then, had you not come forward to say it was Emily--Emily, a child, a nobody--whom he loved, and that I was his confidante. I can see it all now. He had no escape. Artémise, I have loved you better than any woman all your life, and you repaid me by taking away from me--handing over to that girl----’ Her eyes were ablaze in her flushed yet withered face. Her whole frame was trembling with angry emotion. Mrs. Brown rose quickly and went to her, taking her hands, holding her fast. ‘It is twenty years ago,’ she said, ‘and it was to save your honour, your position, everything, Cecile--your child, your wealth, everything you had in the world.’