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'Charmed to have the pleasure of meeting you, Captain Newenden. 'Delighted to have the honor of making your acquaintance, Sir Patrick. 'I think we can settle this in two minutes? 'My own idea perfectly expressed. 'State your position, Captain. 'With the greatest pleasure. Here is my niece, Mrs. Glenarm, engaged to marry Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn.
Discovery was, nevertheless, advancing on Bishopriggs from a quarter which had not been included in his calculations. Glenarm were the letters between Geoffrey and herself, which she had lost at Craig Fernie, and bent on clearing up the suspicion which pointed to Bishopriggs as the person who was trying to turn the correspondence to pecuniary account.
On the point of answering her seriously, he checked himself. "I always hated poor Geoffrey," he repeated, with a smile. "You ought to be the last person to say that, Mrs. Glenarm! I brought him all the way from London expressly to introduce him to you." "Then I wish you had left him in London!" retorted Mrs. Glenarm, shifting suddenly from tears to temper.
"Any thing to be agreeable to you. I'll ask Perry." He turned away, as if he was going to do it at once. Mrs. Glenarm put out a little hand, ravishingly clothed in a blush-colored glove, and laid it on the athlete's mighty arm. "What a man you are!" she said. "I never met with any body like you before!" The whole secret of the power that Geoffrey had acquired over her was in those words.
"Show me where you run, I'm dying to see it!" said the eager widow, taking possession of Geoffrey's arm with both hands. She glided along by his side, with subtle undulations of movement which appeared to complete the exasperation of Perry. Glenarm. "You take your place there," said Geoffrey, posting her by the sapling.
"Pray don't apologize," she said. "I think I understand that you are so good as to have come to see me. You look tired. Won't you take a chair?" Anne could stand no longer. She took the offered chair. Mrs. Glenarm resumed her place on the music-stool, and ran her fingers idly over the keys of the piano. "Where did you see Mr. Delamayn?" she went on.
"The postman has just given me a letter for you, through the grating in the gate," she answered. "I have put it on the table in there." He went in. The handwriting on the address of the letter was the handwriting of Mrs. Glenarm. He put it unread into his pocket, and went back to Anne. "Step out!" he said. "We shall lose the train." They started for their visit to Holchester House.
"No waiting for the lawyer!" he repeated, vehemently. "This is a matter of life and death. Lady Holchester bitterly resents her son's marriage. She speaks and feels as a friend of Mrs. Glenarm. Do you think Lord Holchester would take the same view if he knew of it?" "It depends entirely on the circumstances."
The brooch on her bosom was a single diamond of resplendent water and great size. The fan in her hand was a master-piece of the finest Indian workmanship. She looked what she was, a person possessed of plenty of superfluous money, but not additionally blest with plenty of superfluous intelligence to correspond. This was the childless young widow of the great ironmaster otherwise, Mrs. Glenarm.
Glenarm answered nevertheless with the obstinacy of a woman brought to bay with a resolution not to be convinced by conviction itself. "I won't give him up!" she cried. "Your letter is a forgery. You have no proof. I won't, I won't, I won't give him up!" she repeated, with the impotent iteration of an angry child. Anne pointed disdainfully to the letter that she held.
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