"I have come here on your behalf," said Admonition, speaking to her across the gate. She had the gate half open, and kept it between them.
"You have nothing to do with me, or I with you," said Mehalah.
"Oh! nothing, I am respectable. I keep myself up, I look after my character!" sneered Mrs. Pettican. "Nevertheless I am here with an offer from my husband. He is ready to receive your mother into his house; I do not approve of this, but he is perverse and will have his way. He will take her in and provide for her."
Mehalah looked up. A load was being lifted from her heart. Were her mother taken in by Mr. Pettican, then she could leave, and leave for ever, Red Hall.
"Yes. He admits his relationship," said Admonition. "I would not, were I he, now that the name is—well—not so savoury as it was. But he is not particular. Men are not. I have been brought up, I am thankful to say, with very strict ideas, and have been formed in a school quite other from that of Mr. Pettican. However, as I was observing—you need not come near me—keep the gate between us, please."
"You were saying," anxiously repeated Mehalah, who had stepped forward in her eagerness.
"I was saying that Mr. Pettican will overlook a great deal, and will receive your mother into his house, and provide her with all that is necessary. But you—"
"I," repeated Mehalah, breathlessly.
"You must never, never set foot within my doors. I could not allow it. I am a person of respectability, I value proprieties. I could not allow my house to be spoken of as one which admitted"—with a contemptuous shrug.
Mehalah took no notice of the insult. She looked hard at Admonition, and said gravely, "You will shelter and care for my mother, on condition that I never go near her?"
"Yes."
"I may never see her, never speak to her, never kiss her again?"
"No, I could not suffer you to enter my respectable house."
"Not even if she were dying?"
