'You ask me who I am, and I will tell you!' Then pointing up to the portrait, 'I am that man's widow!'
'What!' screamed Mrs. Calverley. 'Do you know who that was?'
'No,' said Alice, 'except that he was my husband.'
'Why, woman!' exclaimed the outraged mistress of the house, in a torrent of rage, 'that was Mr. Calverley!'
'I know nothing,' said Alice, 'save that in the sight of Heaven he was my husband. Call him by what name you will, he had neither lot nor part with you. You tell me that he loved you, was devoted to you--it is a lie! You talk of your love for him, and that may be indeed, for he was meant to be loved! But he was mine, all mine--ah, my dear John! ah, my darling old John!'
She broke down utterly here, and fell on her knees before the picture, in a flood of tears.
'Well, upon my word,' cried Mrs. Calverley, 'this is a little too much! No one who knows me would imagine for a minute that I should condescend to quarrel about Mr. Calverley with any trolloping miss who chooses to come here! And no one who knew Mr. Calverley, selfish and neglectful as he was, and without the least consideration for me, would suspect him of being such a Bluebeard or a Mormon as you endeavour to make him out! How dare you come here with a tale like this! How dare you present yourself before me with your brazen face and your well-prepared story, unless it is, as I suppose, to induce me to give you hush-money to stop your mouth. Do you imagine for an instant that I am to be taken in by such a ridiculous plot? Do you imagine for an instant that--'
She stopped, for there was a sound of voices outside, and the next moment the door opened and Martin Gurwood, closely followed by Humphrey Statham, entered the room.
Mrs. Calverley dropped the arm which she had extended in monition, and Alice ran to place herself by Martin Gurwood's side.
'Save me from her!' she cried, shrinking on his arm. 'Save me from this woman!'
'Do not be afraid,' said Martin, endeavouring to calm her. 'We thought to find you here, but hoped to be in time to prevent your suffering any annoyance. Mother,' he added, turning to Mrs. Calverley, 'there is some mistake here.'
'There must be some mistake, indeed,' observed Mrs. Calverley, with great asperity, 'when I find my son, a clergyman of the Church of England, taking part against his mother with a woman who, take the most charitable view of it, is only fitted for Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum.'