"I am sorry for it," continued Lady Dartelle. "May I ask also if that servant brought a note for you this evening, and gave it in your hand?"
"I refuse to answer," she replied, with quiet dignity.
"No answer is needed," said Veronica; "I saw you receive the note."
A deeper pallor came over the fair face—a hunted look came into the sad eyes. The girl clasped her hands nervously.
"I am sorry that this should have happened," said Lady Dartelle. "Knowing you to be a person of refinement and education, I cannot believe you to be guilty of an intrigue with a servant—that I am sure is not the case. I can only imagine that you have some underhand correspondence with a gentleman whom I have hitherto highly respected—with Lord Chandon."
"I have not. Oh, believe me, Lady Dartelle, indeed I have not! He has never seen me—at least, I mean—O Heaven help me!"
"You see," said Veronica to Lady Dartelle, "that confusion means guilt." Miss Dartelle turned to the trembling, pallid girl.
"Do you mean to tell us," she asked, "that you do not know Lord Chandon?"
"I—I mean," murmured the white lips, and then Hyacinth buried her face in her hands and said no more.
"I think, mamma," said Miss Dartelle, "that you have proof sufficient."