The two brothers exchanged glances--they were, perhaps, not men of great penetration--they considered that their sister’s demeanour was one of perfect calm; and she felt as if she were being suffocated, as she waited with a smile on her face till her daughter and the footman, who was more deliberate, were gone. Then she sat down again on her low chair behind the screen, which sheltered her a little from the glare of the candles as well as the fire. ‘I hope,’ she said, ‘it is nothing of a disagreeable kind--you both look so grave.’ ‘You must know what we have come to talk about, Joan.’ ‘Indeed I don’t,’ she said; ‘what is it? There is something the matter. Reginald--Roger--what is it? You frighten me with your grave faces--what has happened?’ The gentlemen looked at each other again; their eyes said, ‘It cannot be true.’ The Colonel cleared his voice; he was the eldest, and it was upon him that the special burden lay. ‘If it is true,’ he said--‘you know best, Joan, whether it is true or not--if it is true, it is the most dreadful thing that has happened in our family.’ ‘You frighten me more and more,’ said Mrs. Blencarrow. ‘Something about John?’ John was the black sheep of the D’Eyncourt family. Again the brothers looked at each other. ‘You must be aware of the rumour that is filling the county,’ said the younger brother. ‘I hear there is nothing else talked of, Joan. It is about you--you, whom we have always been so proud of. Both Reginald and I have got letters. They say that you have made a disgraceful marriage; that it’s been going on for years; that you’ve no right to your present name at all, nor to your position in this house. I cannot tell you the half of what’s said. The first letter we paid no attention to, but when we heard it from half a dozen different places--Joan--nothing about John could be half so bad as a story like this about you.’ Mrs. Blencarrow had risen slowly to her feet, but still was in the shade. She did not seem able to resist the impulse to stand up while she was being accused. ‘So this is the reason of your sudden visit,’ she said, speaking with deliberation, which might have meant either inability to speak, or the utmost contempt of the cause. ‘What could we have done else?’ they both cried together, apologetic for the first moment. ‘We, your brothers, with such a circumstantial story,’ said the Colonel. ‘And your nearest friends, Joan; to nobody could it be of so much importance as to us,’ said the other. ‘Us!’ she said; ‘it is of more importance to the children.’ ‘My dear girl,’ said the Colonel, putting his hand on her shoulder, ‘I am most thankful we did not trust to letters, but came. It’s enough to look at you. You must give us your authority, and we will soon make an end of these slanderers. By Jove! in the old days it would have been pistols that would have done it.’ ‘You can’t use pistols to women,’ said Mr. d’Eyncourt, ‘if you were the greatest fire-eater that ever was.’