She shook her head.
“And you will not be reconciled to this injured young stranger?”
“I! I am a lady—‘or long have dreamed so,’” answered Sybil, haughtily. “At least the daughter of an honest mother. And I will not even permit such a woman as that to live under the same roof with me another day. She leaves in the morning.”
“The house is yours! You must do as you please! But this I tell you: that in the same hour which sees that poor and friendless young creature driven from the shelter of this roof, I leave it too, and leave it for ever.”
If Lyon Berners really meant this, or thought to bring his fiery-hearted wife to terms by the threat, he was mistaken in her character.
“Oh, go!” she answered bitterly—“go! I will not harbor her. And why should I seek to detain you? Your heart has left me already; why should I wish to retain its empty case? Go as soon as you like, Lyon Berners. Good-night, and—good-bye,” she said, and with a wave of her hand she passed from the room.
He was mad to have spoken as he did; madder still to let her leave him so! how mad, he was soon to learn.