"But does anybody ever think how I got it?" said Lady Ongar, turning sharply round upon Mrs. Clavering. "You,—you,—you,—do you dare to tell me what you think of the way in which it became mine? Could you bear it, if it had become yours after such a fashion? I cannot bear it, and I will not." She was now speaking with so much violence that her sister was awed into silence, and Mrs. Clavering herself found a difficulty in answering her.
"Whatever may have been the past," said she, "the question now is how to do the best for the future."
"I had hoped," continued Lady Ongar without noticing what was said to her, "I had hoped to make everything straight by giving his money to another. You know to whom I mean, and so does Hermy. I thought, when I returned, that bad as I had been I might still do some good in the world. But it is as they tell us in the sermons. One cannot make good come out of evil. I have done evil, and nothing but evil has come from the evil which I have done. Nothing but evil will come from it. As for being useful in the world,—I know of what use I am! When women hear how wretched I have been they will be unwilling to sell themselves as I did." Then she made her way to the door, and left the room, going out with quiet steps, and closing the lock behind her without a sound.
"I did not know that she was such as that," said Mrs. Clavering.
"Nor did I. She has never spoken in that way before."
"Poor soul! Hermione, you see there are those in the world whose sufferings are worse than yours."
"I don't know," said Lady Clavering. "She never lost what I have lost,—never."
"She has lost what I am sure you never will lose, her own self-esteem. But, Hermy, you should be good to her. We must all be good to her. Will it not be better that you should stay with us for a while,—both of you?"
"What, here at the park?"
"We will make room for you at the rectory, if you would like it."