“Then why did you not speak to me?”
“I wished to give you a lesson.”
“You thought to frighten me, as if I were a doughy, half-baked English girl! Allow me to ask how you were aware I was out.”
Lady Ann was not ready with her answer. She wanted to establish a protective claim on the girl—to have a secret with, and so a hold upon her.
“If the servants do not know,” Barbara went on, “would you mind saying how your ladyship came to know? Have the servants up, and I will tell the whole thing before them all—and prove what I say too.”
“Calm yourself, Miss Wylder. You will scarcely do yourself justice in English society, if you give way to such temper. As you wish the whole house to know what you were about, pray begin with me, and explain the thing to me.”
“Mr. Tuke told me he had found a young woman almost dead with hunger and cold by the way-side, and carried her to a cottage. I came to you, as you well remember, and begged a little brandy. Then I went to the larder, and got some soup. She would certainly have been dead before the morning, if we had not taken them to her.”
“Why did you not tell me what you wanted the brandy for?”
“Because you would have tried to prevent me from going.”
“Of course I should have had the poor creature attended to!—I confess I should have sent a more suitable person.”