“I do; because I know myself. From a child I’ve been dirt to your pride, an item to your money. For years I’ve lived a shamed woman. But one thing I bought with it—one little thing. Think the price high for it—I dessay it is; but I bought and paid for it—and often when I turn it over in my mind I don’t count the price too dear.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You may, if you try. What I bought was the power over you, my proud lady. While I keep tight lips I have you at the end of a chain. You come here to-night to break it; one little word and you’ll be free and glad. But no, and no, and no! You may guess till you’re tired—you may be sure in your heart; but it’s all no good without that little word you’ll never get from me.”
“You shall speak!”
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders and picked up the candle.
“Simme,” she said, “you’d best go back to your carriage and horses. My li’l boy’s in the next room, tryin’ to sleep; and ’tisn’ fit he heard much of this.”
She passed resolutely into the bedroom, leaving her visitor to darkness. But Honoria, desperate now, pushed after her, scarcely knowing what she did or meant to do.
“You shall speak!”
The house-door opened and light footsteps came running through the outer room. It was little George, and he pulled at her skirts.
“Mummy, the horses are taking cold!”