'I am myself the mistress of Mary,' replied Adeline in a faint voice.
'I ask thine excuse,' answered Mrs Pemberton, re-seating herself: 'as thou art Mrs Glenmurray, thou art the person I wanted to see.'
Here Adeline changed colour, overcome with the consciousness that she ought to undeceive her, and the sense of the difficulty of doing so.
'But thou art very pale, and seemest uneasy,' continued the gentle Quaker—'I hope thy husband is not worse?'
'Mr Glenmurray, but not my husband,' said Adeline, 'is better to-day.'
'Art thou not married?' asked Mrs Pemberton with quickness.
'I am not.'
'And yet thou livest with the gentleman I named, and art the person whom Mary called Mrs Glenmurray!'
'I am,' replied Adeline, her paleness yielding to a deep crimson, and her eyes filling with tears.
Mrs Pemberton sat for a minute in silence; then rising with an air of cold dignity, 'I fear thy servant is not likely to suit me,' she observed, 'and I will not detain thee any longer.'