And Lady Lufton's face, as she spoke, was unbending, severe, and harsh.
Mrs. Robarts had never before been so spoken to by her old friend; indeed, she had never been so spoken to by any one, and she hardly knew how to bear herself.
"Very well, Lady Lufton," she said; "then I will go. Good-by."
"Good-by," said Lady Lufton; and, turning herself to her table, she began to arrange her papers. Fanny had never before left Framley Court to go back to her own parsonage without a warm embrace. Now she was to do so without even having her hand taken. Had it come to this, that there was absolutely to be a quarrel between them—a quarrel forever?
"Fanny is going, you know, mamma," said Lady Meredith. "She will be home before you are down again."
"I can not help it, my dear. Fanny must do as she pleases. I am not to be the judge of her actions. She has just told me so."
Mrs. Robarts had said nothing of the kind, but she was far too proud to point this out. So, with a gentle step, she retreated through the door, and then Lady Meredith, having tried what a conciliatory whisper with her mother would do, followed her. Alas! the conciliatory whisper was altogether ineffectual.
The two ladies said nothing as they descended the stairs, but when they had regained the drawing-room they looked with blank horror into each other's faces. What were they to do now? Of such a tragedy as this they had had no remotest preconception. Was it absolutely the case that Fanny Robarts was to walk out of Lady Lufton's house as a declared enemy—she who, before her marriage as well as since, had been almost treated as an adopted daughter of the family?
"Oh, Fanny, why did you answer my mother in that way?" said Lady Meredith. "You saw that she was vexed. She had other things to vex her besides this about Mr. Robarts."
"And would not you answer any one who attacked Sir George?"
"No, not my own mother. I would let her say what she pleased, and leave Sir George to fight his own battles."
