Mine is the open, yours the hidden shame;
The vulture soars with me, but skulks with you.
Ada Leicester had scarcely gained her apartment, when Jacob Strong entered it. He came in with a tread so heavy, that it made itself heard even through the turf-like swell of the carpet. She looked up at him wearily, yet with surprise. Jacob, so phlegmatic, so sturdy in all other cases, never was self-possessed with his mistress; one glance of those eyes, one wave of that hand was enough to confuse his brain, and make the strong heart flutter in his bosom like the wings of a wild bird.
"Madam," he stammered, shifting his huge feet unsteadily to and fro on the carpet, "there is a woman down stairs who wants to see you."
"I can see no one this morning; send her away!"
"I tried that, madam, but she answers that her business is important, and, in short, that she will see you."
Ada opened her eyes wide, and half turned in her chair. This insolent message aroused her somewhat.
"Indeed! What does she look like? Who can it be?"
"She is a very common-looking person, handsome enough, but unpleasant."
"You never saw her before, then?"