He went up into the drawing-room, and found Miss Viner seated there in the midst of a crew of women. He went up to her, and taking her hand, asked her in a whisper whether she would come out with him for a moment.
“Where is he?” said she. “I know that something is the matter. What is it?”
“There is such a crowd here. Step out for a moment.” And he led her away to her own room.
“Where is he?” said she. “What is the matter? He has sent to say that he no longer wants me. Tell me; am I free from him?”
“Miss Viner, you are free.”
Though she had asked the question herself, she was astounded by the answer; but, nevertheless, no idea of the truth had yet come upon her. “It is so,” she said. “Well, What else? Has he written? He has bought me, as he would a beast of burden, and has, I suppose, a right to treat me as he pleases.”
“I have a letter; but, dear Miss Viner——”
“Well, tell me all,—out at once. Tell me everything.”
“You are free, Miss Viner; but you will be cut to the heart when you learn the meaning of your freedom.”
“He has lost everything in trade. He is ruined.”