But, should she destroy herself, there would be no vengeance in that. Could she be alone, far out at sea, in some small skiff with that low-born tailor, and then pull out the plug, and let him know what he had done to her as they both went down together beneath the water, that would be such a cure of the evil as would now best suit her wishes. But there was no such sea, and no such boat. Death, however, might still be within her grasp.
Then she laid her hand on the girl's shoulder, and Lady Anna awoke. "Oh, mamma;—is that you?"
"It is I, my child."
"Mamma, mamma; is anything the matter? Oh, mamma, kiss me." Then the Countess stooped down and kissed the girl passionately. "Dear mamma,—dearest mamma!"
"Anna, will you do one thing for me? If I never speak to you of Lord Lovel again, will you forget Daniel Thwaite?" She paused, but Lady Anna had no answer ready. "Will you not say as much as that for me? Say that you will forget him till I am gone."
"Gone, mamma? You are not going!"
"Till I am dead. I shall not live long, Anna. Say at least that you will not see him or mention his name for twelve months. Surely, Anna, you will do as much as that for a mother who has done so much for you." But Lady Anna would make no promise. She turned her face to the pillow and was dumb. "Answer me, my child. I may at least demand an answer."
"I will answer you to-morrow, mamma." Then the Countess fell on her knees at the bedside and uttered a long, incoherent prayer, addressed partly to the God of heaven, and partly to the poor girl who was lying there in bed, supplicating with mad, passionate eagerness that this evil thing might be turned away from her. Then she seized the girl in her embrace and nearly smothered her with kisses. "My own, my darling, my beauty, my all; save your mother from worse than death, if you can;—if you can!"
Had such tenderness come sooner it might have had deeper effect. As it was, though the daughter was affected and harassed,—though she was left panting with sobs and drowned in tears,—she could not but remember the treatment she had suffered from her mother during the last six months. Had the request for a year's delay come sooner, it would have been granted; but now it was made after all measures of cruelty had failed. Ten times during the night did she say that she would yield,—and ten times again did she tell herself that were she to yield now, she would be a slave all her life. She had resolved,—whether right or wrong,—still, with a strong mind and a great purpose, that she would not be turned from her way, and when she arose in the morning she was resolved again. She went into her mother's room and at once declared her purpose. "Mamma, it cannot be. I am his, and I must not forget him or be ashamed of his name;—no, not for a day."
"Then go from me, thou ungrateful one, hard of heart, unnatural child, base, cruel, and polluted. Go from me, if it be possible, for ever!"