"Maud!" said Marie again. "What has she done?"
"She has committed the great crime of being the daughter of your husband's mistress," said Lady Ardingly. "Otherwise I know nothing against her. Andrew, I should imagine, will divorce his wife, if you do anything. It will be pleasant for a young girl just beginning the world! She was, I believe, perhaps going to marry Anthony Maxwell. That, too, will be off, like the British Empire. But they do not matter; only Lady Alston matters!"
"Ah, you pitiless woman!" cried Marie. "Do you not see how it is with me?"
Lady Ardingly patted her hand gently.
"My dear, I am not pitiless," she said; "but it would be cruel of me if I did not put these things before you as they are. It is no time for concealing the truth. You have been thinking only of yourself. All your fastidiousness and your purity has been revolted. You wish to vindicate that insult at whatever cost. I point out to you that the cost is a heavy one."
"But if I did—if I did," said Marie, her voice quavering, "would it stop Maud's marriage, for instance?"
"Mrs. Maxwell—Lady Maxwell, I beg her pardon—would assuredly forbid the banns."
"But Anthony is of age," said Marie. "He would marry her."
"He could not. Even if he did, she would be the daughter of the divorced woman."
"But I can't help myself," cried Marie. "I could not go on living with Jack."