On the afternoon of the next day Mr. Torkingham, who occasionally dropped

in to see St. Cleeve, called again as usual; after duly remarking on the

state of the weather, congratulating him on his sure though slow

improvement, and answering his inquiries about the comet, he said, 'You

have heard, I suppose, of what has happened to Lady Constantine?' 'No! Nothing serious?' 'Yes, it is serious.' The parson informed him of the death of Sir

Blount, and of the accidents which had hindered all knowledge of the

same,--accidents favoured by the estrangement of the pair and the

cessation of correspondence between them for some time.

His listener received the news with the concern of a friend, Lady

Constantine's aspect in his eyes depending but little on her condition

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matrimonially.

'There was no attempt to bring him home when he died?' 'O no. The climate necessitates instant burial. We shall have more

particulars in a day or two, doubtless.' 'Poor Lady Constantine,--so good and so sensitive as she is! I suppose

she is quite prostrated by the bad news.' 'Well, she is rather serious,--not prostrated. The household is going

into mourning.' 'Ah, no, she would not be quite prostrated,' murmured Swithin,

recollecting himself. 'He was unkind to her in many ways. Do you think

she will go away from Welland?' That the vicar could not tell. But he feared that Sir Blount's affairs

had been in a seriously involved condition, which might necessitate many

and unexpected changes.

Time showed that Mr. Torkingham's surmises were correct.

During the long weeks of early summer, through which the young man still

lay imprisoned, if not within his own chamber, within the limits of the

house and garden, news reached him that Sir Blount's mismanagement and

eccentric behaviour were resulting in serious consequences to Lady

Constantine; nothing less, indeed, than her almost complete

impoverishment. His personalty was swallowed up in paying his debts, and

the Welland estate was so heavily charged with annuities to his distant

relatives that only a mere pittance was left for her. She was reducing

the establishment to the narrowest compass compatible with decent

gentility. The horses were sold one by one; the carriages also; the

greater part of the house was shut up, and she resided in the smallest

rooms. All that was allowed to remain of her former contingent of male

servants were an odd man and a boy. Instead of using a carriage she now

drove about in a donkey-chair, the said boy walking in front to clear the

way and keep the animal in motion; while she wore, so his informants

reported, not an ordinary widow's cap or bonnet, but something even

plainer, the black material being drawn tightly round her face, giving

her features a small, demure, devout cast, very pleasing to the eye.




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