If he'd only trust his
own old woman! But they're always writing to him and setting him against
me. And I've got nobody to turn to." She laid her hand on Lydia's with a
rattle of bracelets. "You'll help me, won't you?"
Lydia drew back from the smiling fierceness of her brows.
"I'm sorry--but I don't think I understand. My husband has said nothing to
me of--of yours."
The great black crescents above Mrs. Linton's eyes met angrily.
"I say--is that true?" she demanded.
Lydia rose from her seat.
"Oh, look here, I didn't mean that, you know--you mustn't take one up so!
Can't you see how rattled I am?"
Lydia saw that, in fact, her beautiful mouth was quivering beneath
softened eyes.
"I'm beside myself!" the splendid creature wailed, dropping into her seat.
"I'm so sorry," Lydia repeated, forcing herself to speak kindly; "but how
can I help you?"
Mrs. Linton raised her head sharply.
"By finding out--there's a darling!"
"Finding what out?"
"What Trevenna told him."
"Trevenna--?" Lydia echoed in bewilderment.
Mrs. Linton clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Oh, Lord--there, it's out! What a fool I am! But I supposed of course you
knew; I supposed everybody knew." She dried her eyes and bridled. "Didn't
you know that he's Lord Trevenna? I'm Mrs. Cope."
Lydia recognized the names. They had figured in a flamboyant elopement
which had thrilled fashionable London some six months earlier.
"Now you see how it is--you understand, don't you?" Mrs.
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