Let's get back to the widow and her sons. How much do they want?"
"A subscription of five hundred pounds, my Lady, would provide for
everything--if it could only be collected."
"It _shall_ be collected, Moody! I will pay the subscription out of my
own purse." Having asserted herself in those noble terms, she spoilt the
effect of her own outburst of generosity by dropping to the sordid view
of the subject in her next sentence. "Five hundred pounds is a good bit
of money, though; isn't it, Moody?"
"It is, indeed, my Lady." Rich and generous as he knew his mistress
to be, her proposal to pay the whole subscription took the steward by
surprise. Lady Lydiard's quick perception instantly detected what was
passing in his mind.
"You don't quite understand my position in this matter," she said. "When
I read the newspaper notice of Mr. Tollmidge's death, I searched among
his Lordship's papers to see if they really were related. I discovered
some letters from Mr. Tollmidge, which showed me that he and Lord
Lydiard were cousins. One of those letters contains some very painful
statements, reflecting most untruly and unjustly on my conduct; lies,
in short," her Ladyship burst out, losing her dignity, as usual. "Lies,
Moody, for which Mr. Tollmidge deserved to be horsewhipped. I would have
done it myself if his Lordship had told me at the time. No matter; it's
useless to dwell on the thing now," she continued, ascending again to
the forms of expression which became a lady of rank.
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