the
search and ..."

But she shrugged her shoulders, whilst a short, bitter laugh escaped her
lips:

"At last?" she said with biting sarcasm. "After twelve years!"

"Nay! but remember, ma'am, that his lordship now is very ill ... and
nigh on seventy years old.... Failing your late husband, Master
Rowland--whom the Lord hath in His keeping--your eldest son is ... hem
... that is ... by law, ma'am, ... and with all respect due to Sir
Marmaduke ... your eldest son is heir to the Earldom."

"And though his lordship hates me, he still prefers that my son should
succeed to his title, rather than Sir Marmaduke whom he abhors."

But that suggestion was altogether too much for poor Master
Skyffington's sense of what was due to so noble a family, and to its
exalted head.

"That is ... er ..." he muttered in supreme discomfort, swallowing great
gulps which rose to his throat at this rash and disrespectful speech
from the ex-actress. "Family feuds ... hem ... er ... very distressing
of a truth ... and ... that is ..."

"I fear me his lordship will be disappointed," she rejoined, quite
heedless of the little attorney's perturbation, "and that under these
circumstances Sir Marmaduke will surely succeed."

"I was about to remark," he rejoined, "that now, with my lord's
help--his wealth and influence ... now, that is, ... that he has
interested himself in the matter ... hem ... we might make fresh
inquiries ... that is ... er ..."

"It will be useless, master. I have done all that is humanly possible. I
loved my boys dearly--and it was because of my love for them that I
placed them under my mother's care.... I loved them, you understand, but
I was living in a gay world in London ... my husband was dead ... I
could do naught for their comfort.... I thought it would be best for
them ..."

It was her turn now to speak humbly, almost apologetically, whilst her
eyes sought those of the simple little attorney, trying to read approval
in his glance, or at any rate an absence of reproof. He was shaking his
head, sighing with visible embarrassment the while. In his innermost
soul, he could find no excuse for the frivolous mother, anxious to avoid
the responsibilities which the Lord Himself had put upon her: anxious to
be rid of her children in order that she might pursue with greater
freedom and ease that life of enjoyment and thoughtlessness which she
craved.

"My mother was a strange woman," continued Mistress de Chavasse
earn