"She is not here, Mr. Thwaite. She is not living in this house."
"Where is she then?"
"She is staying with friends."
"With the Lovels,—in Yorkshire?"
"I do not think that good can be done by my telling you where she is."
"Do you mean me to understand that she is engaged to the Earl?"
"I tell you this,—that she acknowledges herself to be bound to you, but bound to you simply by gratitude. It seems that there was a promise."
"Oh yes,—there was a promise, Lady Lovel; a promise as firmly spoken as when you told the late lord that you would be his wife."
"I know that there was a promise,—though I, her mother, living with her at the time, had no dream of such wickedness. There was a promise, and by that she feels herself to be in some measure bound."
"She should do so,—if words can ever mean anything."