As he left the room, a servant met him with the message that lady Ann wished to see him in the library. Cold as ever, but not colder than always, she poked her long white hand at him. “This is awkward for you, Richard,” she said, “but more awkward still for Arthur. Mortgrange is at your service until you find some employment befitting your position. You must not forget what is due to the family. It is a great pity you offended your father.” Richard was silent. “He left it therefore in my hands to do as I thought fit. Sir Wilton did not die the rich man people imagined him, but I am ready to place a thousand pounds at your disposal.” “I should be sorry to make the little he has left you so much less,” answered Richard. “As you please,” returned her ladyship. “I should like to have just a word with my sister Theodora,” said Richard. “I doubt if she will see you.--Miss Malliver, will you take Mr. Tuke to the schoolroom, and then inquire whether Miss Lestrange is able to leave her room. You will stay with her; she is far from well.--Perhaps you had better go and inquire first. Mr. Tuke will wait you here.” Miss Malliver came from somewhere, and left the room. Richard felt very angry: was he not to see his father's daughter except in the presence of that woman? But he said nothing. “There is just one thing,” resumed her ladyship, “upon which, if only out of respect to the feelings of my late husband, I feel bound to insist;--it is, that, while in this neighbourhood, you will be careful as to what company you show yourself in. You will not, I trust, pretend ignorance of my meaning, and cause me the pain of having to be more explicit!” Richard was struck dumb with indignation--and remained dumb from the feeling that he could not condescend to answer her as she deserved. Ere he had half recovered himself, she had again resumed. “If the title were ceded to the property,” she said, as if talking to herself, “it might be a matter for more material consideration.” “Did your ladyship address me?” said Richard. “If you choose to understand what I mean.--But I speak with too much delicacy, I fear. Compensation it could be only by courtesy.--Suppose I referred to the court of chancery my grave doubts of your story?” “My father has acknowledged me!” “And repudiated;--sent you from the house--left you to pursue your trade--bequeathed you nothing! Everybody knows your father--my late husband, I mean--would risk anything for my annoyance, though, thank God, he dared not attempt to push injury beyond the grave!--he well knew the danger of that! Had he really believed you his son, do you imagine he would have left you penniless? Would he not have been rejoiced to put you over Mr. Lestrange's head, if only to wring the heart of his mother?” “The proofs that satisfied him remain.” “The testimony, that is, of those most interested in the result--whose very case is a confession of felony!”