A smile—­the dangerous smile of an inveterately vindictive woman thoroughly roused—­showed itself with a furtive suddenness on her face.  Mrs. Glenarm was a little startled.  Lady Lundie below the surface—­as distinguished from Lady Lundie on the surface—­was not a pleasant object to contemplate.

“Pray try to compose yourself,” said Mrs. Glenarm.  “Dear Lady Lundie, you frighten me!”

The bland surface of her ladyship appeared smoothly once more; drawn back, as it were, over the hidden inner self, which it had left for the moment exposed to view.

“Forgive me for feeling it!” she said, with the patient sweetness which so eminently distinguished her in times of trial.  “It falls a little heavily on a poor sick woman—­innocent of all suspicion, and insulted by the most heartless neglect.  Don’t let me distress you.  I shall rally, my dear; I shall rally!  In this dreadful calamity—­this abyss of crime and misery and deceit—­I have no one to depend on but myself.  For Blanche’s sake, the whole thing must be cleared up—­probed, my dear, probed to the depths.  Blanche must take a position that is worthy of her.  Blanche must insist on her rights, under My protection.  Never mind what I suffer, or what I sacrifice.  There is a work of justice for poor weak Me to do.  It shall be done!” said her ladyship, fanning herself with an aspect of illimitable resolution.  “It shall be done!”

“But, Lady Lundie what can you do?  They are all away in the south.  And as for that abominable woman—­”

Lady Lundie touched Mrs. Glenarm on the shoulder with her fan.

“I have my surprise in store, dear friend, as well as you.  That abominable woman was employed as Blanche’s governess in this house.  Wait! that is not all.  She left us suddenly—­ran away—­on the pretense of being privately married.  I know where she went.  I can trace what she did.  I can find out who was with her.  I can follow Mr. Brinkworth’s proceedings, behind Mr. Brinkworth’s back.  I can search out the truth, without depending on people compromised in this black business, whose interest it is to deceive me.  And I will do it to-day!” She closed the fan with a sharp snap of triumph, and settled herself on the pillow in placid enjoyment of her dear friend’s surprise.

Mrs. Glenarm drew confidentially closer to the bedside.  “How can you manage it?” she asked, eagerly.  “Don’t think me curious.  I have my interest, too, in getting at the truth.  Don’t leave me out of it, pray!”

“Can you come back to-morrow, at this time?”

“Yes! yes!”

“Come, then—­and you shall know.”

“Can I be of any use?”

“Not at present.”

“Can my uncle be of any use?”

“Do you know where to communicate with Captain Newenden?”

“Yes—­he is staying with some friends in Sussex.”

“We may possibly want his assistance.  I can’t tell yet.  Don’t keep Mrs. Delamayn waiting any longer, my dear.  I shall expect you to-morrow.”