When she had gone, Lady Valleys rang for her maid again, and relapsed
into meditation. Her first thought was to consult her husband; her
second that secrecy was strength. Since no one knew but Barbara, no one
had better know.
Her astuteness and experience comprehended the far-reaching
probabilities of this affair. It would not do to take a single false
step. If she had no one's action to control but her own and Barbara's,
so much the less chance of a slip. Her mind was a strange medley of
thoughts and feelings, almost comic, well-nigh tragic; of worldly
prudence, and motherly instinct; of warm-blooded sympathy with all
love-affairs, and cool-blooded concern for her son's career. It was not
yet too late perhaps to prevent real mischief; especially since it was
agreed by everyone that the woman was no adventuress. Whatever was done,
they must not forget that she had nursed him--saved him, Barbara had
said! She must be treated with all kindness and consideration.
Hastening her toilette, she in turn went to her daughter's room.
Barbara was already dressed, leaning out of her window towards the sea.
Lady Valleys began almost timidly:
"My dear, is Eustace out of bed yet?"
"He was to get up to-day for an hour or two."
"I see. Now, would there be any danger if you and I went up and took
charge over from Mrs.
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