She led the way to it, however, with deliberation. She took no notice of
Coryston's, "Well, mother, what's up? Somebody to be tried and executed?"
but, waving to him to take a particular chair, she asked the others to
sit, and placed herself beside the table which held the sheets of folded
foolscap. The ugly electric light from overhead fell full upon the pallid
oval of her face, on her lace cap, and shimmering black dress. Only Marcia
noticed that the hand which took up the foolscap shook a little. It was an
old hand, delicately white, with large finger-joints.

"I can't pretend to make a jest of what I'm going to say," she said, with
a look at Coryston. "I wanted to speak to you all on a matter of
business--not very agreeable business, but necessary. I am sure you will
hear me out, and believe that I am doing my best, according to my lights,
by the family--the estates--and the country."

At the last slowly spoken words Lady Coryston drew herself up. Especially
when she said "the country," it was as though she mentioned something
peculiarly her own, something attacked which fled to her for protection.

Marcia looked round on her three brothers: Coryston sunk in a big gilt
chair, one leg cocked over the other, his fingers lightly crossed above his
head; James with his open brow, his snub nose, his charming expression;
and Arthur, who had coaxed Lady Coryston's spaniel on to his lap and was
pulling his ears. He looked, she thought, bored and only half attentive.
And yet she was tolerably certain that he knew no more than she did what
Was going to happen.

"I am quite aware," said Lady Coryston, resuming after a pause, "that in
leaving his estates and the bulk of his fortune to myself your dear father