She has very peculiar ideas on that point.

I must see what she thinks about it." "Of course," said Miss Reinhart, "you will do as you think best, Sir Roland--and your way is, I am sure, always the best--but I should have thought, considering the very nervous state that Lady Tayne always lies in, that it would have been far better not to let her know about it until it is all over." My father thought for a few moments, and then he said: "No, I should not like to do that; it would seem like taking an unfair advantage of her helplessness." Miss Reinhart blushed deeply.
"Oh, Sir Roland!" she cried, "you could not suppose that I thought of such a thing! I assure you I am quite incapable of it.

I thought only of dear Lady Tayne." And she seemed so distressed, so concerned and anxious that my father hardly knew how to reassure her.

She explained and protested until at last, and with something of impatience, he said: "I will speak to Lady Tayne about it this morning." I knew he felt in want of some kind of moral support when he took my hand and said, in would-be careless words: "Come with me, Laura, to see mamma." And we went, hand-in-hand, to my mother's room.

There, after the usual loving greetings had been exchanged, my father broached the subject which evidently perplexed and sadly worried him.