"Impossible--impossible."
"Am I in the confidence of your mind? Do I know the contents of your jewel-case? But this is folly, this is pretence; you know in your soul that I am telling you the truth. And now for the reason of my telling it. If you think I am a jealous woman, come here to expose my husband to my rival, and take him from her by even such desperate means, you make my task harder, by giving me blind folly to deal with. I came with no thought of myself or you: though I do, indeed, save you by coming, I have no care, no wish to do so; you are nothing to me, but a danger in his path. That his safety will be yours too, is your fortune, not my doing. I care not; it might be your destruction, and it would be all one to me. I am not jealous of you; you are nothing to me, and he has long been lost to me. But he must not be lost to himself too, and for that I am here. I can do nothing with or for him more, but you can: he loves you, after his fashion, and you can save him."
"I--I save him--from what? how? what do you mean? If you have told me the truth, why should I, if I could?"
Calmly and contemplatively Harriet looked at her; calmly she said, as if to herself:
"And I am sure he thinks you love him! Wonderful, very wonderful; but," she went on with quicker utterance, "that does not matter. You can save him. I will answer your last question first: to convince you that this must be done, for your own sake, will save time. You did not know his character until now, but I think you know something of his temper; I think you understand that he is a desperate man. Suppose you break with him now--and your mind has been made up to do that for several minutes--suppose you determine to save yourself from this swindler, this liar, this thief, to keep your character, and your money, and your beauty for a different fate, do you think he will let you go? How do you propose to escape him? You don't know. You are terribly frightened at the idea. I have come to tell you."
"You are a dreadful woman--you are a wicked, dreadful woman," said Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge with a moan.
"Yes," said Harriet, "I am a wicked, dreadful woman, but you need not fear me, though you have done me some wrong too, even according to your code, I think. Rouse yourself, and listen to me while I tell you what you must do."
Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge tried to obey her; she shook back the hair which had fallen over her face, and looked up with eyes less scared, and more intelligent.
"If my husband has not left England by to-morrow," said Harriet with clear, distinct emphasis, "it will be too late to save him from the clutches of the law. Nothing will induce him to leave England while you remain here. What!" she said, with a sudden rush of burning red into her face and an indescribable fierce change of tone and manner. "What! You were going, were you--and together? Tell me instantly--instantly, I say--what is this I see in your face?"
Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge caught at Harriet's gown, and stammered: