would be forfeited, and would fall to
Esther's family. The children of her lover would be outcasts upon
earth. Retribution so full and complete was more than she had ever
deemed possible, and continually presented itself to her thoughts,
whether she would or no. Sometimes she asked herself, was it not her
duty to investigate the matter? did not justice to her own children
require it? might she not be charged with allowing them to be
defrauded? Besides, supposing the tale was well founded, and her
husband's title maintained, and possession had of the castle, there
would then be ample opportunity for generosity. But justice should
come first. Such were the ideas which had forced themselves upon Mrs.
Pendarrel's notice, and been less and less unwelcome, before the
meeting at Mrs. Winston's party. The discovery there made gave them a
new colouring. If the orphans had chosen to fling aside their name, a
name to which they might have no right, need she be scrupulous in
scrutinizing their title, and overthrowing it if she could? No, no.
Let them be Mortons, or Bassets, or what they would: if they cared so
little for the name of Trevethlan who were its natural upholders,
surely neither need she who was pledged for its extinction.

The next day Mrs. Pendarrel desired the presence of her protege. The
interview which ensued was long. By dexterous questions, flung out
with great apparent nonchalance, and exhibiting a scornful disbelief
in the things inquired of, the lady extracted from Michael Sinson all
the popular rumours upon which he had founded his insinuation. But if
she supposed that her manner blinded him to her real interest, she
deceived herself. He was subtile enough to see that the affected
indifference was only a disguise. And although, in truth, very willing
to unfold his story, he amused himself at times by feigning
reluctance, and obliging his patroness to speak more plainly than she
desired. The following pages embody the substance of his information,
derived, he said, from rumours current in Trevethlan and its
neighbourhood when he was a boy, but now nearly forgotten.

Margaret Basset was one of the prettiest girls to be met with between
the Lizard and Marazion. Her song was the merriest in the hay-field;
her foot was the lightest at Sithney fair. Many a well-to-do young man
would have gladly made her his wife, but Margaret was hard to please.
And her fastidiousness was not displeasing to her mother, Maud, who