"My dear," said Mrs. Lenoir, addressing the Duchess, "this is a girl who lives in the same house as I do, and who has known me for years. What is the matter with you, Lizzie?" For the girl was gazing at the Duchess with a look of wild admiration and interest.
"I beg your pardon," said Lizzie, "but is the young lady your daughter that you spoke to me of last night----"
Lizzie was stopped in her speech by a sob from Mrs. Lenoir, who hid her face in her hands, and turned from them, hearing as she turned, a whisper from the Duchess:
"What does she mean? Your daughter! Oh, my God! Let me look at you again."
But Mrs. Lenoir kept her face hidden from the girl, and said, with broken sobs:
"Let me have my way a little, my dear. I will speak more plainly presently, when we are alone. Give me your hand----"
She held the pretty fingers which the Duchess gave her, with a clinging loving pressure which caused the girl's heart to thrill with hope and fear.
"Hear what Lizzie has to say first. Lizzie, you were in my room this morning when a gentleman called to see me?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lenoir."
"You heard him inquiring for me?"