...
She trembled; alternately desperate, and full of fears. The thought that
Melrose was only a few miles from her--that she was going to face and
brave him after all these years--turned her cold with terror. And yet
misery had made her reckless.
"He _shall_ provide for us!" She gathered up her weak soul into this
supreme resolve. How wise she had been to follow the sudden impulse which
had bade her appeal to the Tathams! Were they not her kinsfolk by
marriage?
They knew what Edmund was! They were kind and powerful. They would
protect her, and take up her cause. Edmund was now an old man. If he
died, who else had a right to his money but she and Felicia? Oh! Lady
Tatham would help them; she'd see them righted! Cradled in that hope,
Netta Melrose at last fell asleep.
XIV
Tatham arrived at Duddon by the earliest possible train on the following
morning.
On crossing the hall he perceived in the distance a very slight thin
girl, dressed in black, coming out of his mother's sitting-room. When she
saw him she turned hurriedly to the stairs and ran up, only pausing once
on the first landing to flash upon him a singularly white face, lit by
singularly black eyes. Then she disappeared.
"Who is that lady?" he asked of Hurst in astonishment.
"Her ladyship expects you, my lord," replied Hurst evasively, throwing
open the door of the morning-room. Victoria was disclosed; pacing up and
down, her hands in the pockets of her tweed jacket.
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