Netta asked questions. Lady Tatham, it seemed, was the great lady of the
neighbourhood, and Duddon Castle was a splendid old place, that all the
visitors went to see. And there were her cards. Netta's thoughts began to
hurry thither and thither, and possibilities began to rise. A relation of
Edmund's? She made Thyrza tell her all she knew about Duddon and the
Tathams. Visions of being received there, of meeting rich and
aristocratic people, of taking her place at last in society, the place
that belonged to her as Edmund's wife, in spite of his queer miserly
ways, ran again lightly through a mind that often harboured such dreams
before--in vain. Her brow cleared. She made Thyrza leave the curtains,
and sit down to gossip with her. And Thyrza, though perfectly conscious,
as the daughter of a hard-working race, that to sit gossiping at midday
was a sinful thing, was none the less willing to sin; and she chattered
on in a Westmoreland dialect that grew steadily broader as she felt
herself more at ease, till Mrs. Melrose could scarcely follow her.

But she managed to seize on the facts that concerned her. Lady Tatham, it
seemed, was a widow, with an only boy, a lad of seven, who was the heir
to Duddon Castle, and its great estates. The Castle was ten miles from
the Tower.

"How shall I ever get there?" thought Mrs. Melrose, despairingly.

As to other neighbours, they seemed to consist entirely of an old
bachelor doctor, about three miles away, and the clergyman of Gimmers
Wick and his wife. _She_ was sure to come. But most people were "glad to
see the back on her." She had such a poor spirit, and was always
complaining.

In the midst of this conversation, the door of the room, which was ajar,