Margaret answered only with a faint smile and wave of her hand, which seemed to Colonel Piercey to say as plainly as words: “Everybody offers me indignity; why not you, too?” which, perhaps, was not very far from the fact; though she was a great deal too proud to have ever said, or even implied, anything of the kind. He answered his own supposition hotly, by saying: “I know no other place where we should be safe from interruption, and I thought it my duty to---- speak to you about the new condition of affairs.” “Yes?” said Margaret. “I am afraid I have very little light to throw on the position; but I shall be glad to hear what you have to say.” All that he said in the meantime was, with some resentment: “You don’t seem so much startled by what has happened as I should have supposed.” “I was much startled to see Patty--I mean the person whom we must now call Mrs. Gervase--at the funeral. But of course, after that, one was prepared for all the rest. I don’t know that I had much reason to be startled even at that. From the moment we found that she was absent while he was absent, I ought to have, and indeed I did, divine what must have occurred. However sure one is of such a thing, it is startling, all the same, when one comes to see it actually accomplished; but I ought not to say more than that.” “You take it with much philosophy,” Colonel Piercey said. “Do you think so? I should be glad to think I was so strong-minded; for there is probably no one to whom it will make so much difference as to me.” “That is why I felt that I must speak to you. Can nothing be done to prevent this?” “To prevent what?” she said, with some surprise. “The reign of this woman over Uncle Giles’ house, in Aunt Piercey’s place! It is too intolerable; it is enough to make the old lady rise from her grave.” “Poor old Aunt Piercey! She has been taken away from the evil to come. I am glad that she is dead, and has not had this to bear.” “I suppose women have tears at their will,” cried Colonel Piercey, bursting forth in an impatience which he could restrain no longer. “She was not so kind to you that you should feel so tenderly for her.” “How do you know she was not kind to me? She was natural, at all events,” cried Margaret. “It has all been quite natural up to this time; I went away and I came back, and whatever happened to me, I was at home. But you, Colonel Piercey, you are not natural. I have no right to accept contumely at your hands. You came here with a suspicion of Heaven knows what in your mind; you thought I had some design: what was the design which you suspected me of having against the happiness of this household? I warned you that you should have some time or other to explain what you meant--to me.”