He's such a boy--a mere baby, you know; he's only two-and-twenty." She
dropped her orbed lids. "He's younger than me--only fancy! a few months
younger. I tell him he ought to listen to me as if I was his mother;
oughtn't he now? But he won't, he won't! All his people are at him, you
see--oh, I know _their_ little game! Trying to get him away from me before
I can get my divorce--that's what they're up to. At first he wouldn't
listen to them; he used to toss their letters over to me to read; but now
he reads them himself, and answers 'em too, I fancy; he's always shut up
in his room, writing. If I only knew what his plan is I could stop him
fast enough--he's such a simpleton. But he's dreadfully deep too--at times
I can't make him out. But I know he's told your husband everything--I knew
that last night the minute I laid eyes on him. And I _must_ find out--you
must help me--I've got no one else to turn to!"
She caught Lydia's fingers in a stormy pressure.
"Say you'll help me--you and your husband."
Lydia tried to free herself.
"What you ask is impossible; you must see that it is. No one could
interfere in--in the way you ask."
Mrs. Cope's clutch tightened.
"You won't, then? You won't?"
"Certainly not. Let me go, please."
Mrs. Cope released her with a laugh.
"Oh, go by all means--pray don't let me detain you! Shall you go and tell
Lady Susan Condit that there's a pair of us--or shall I save you the
trouble of enlightening her?"
Lydia stood still in the middle of the path, seeing her antagonist through
a mist of terror.
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