"I am Lady Ravensworth," was the somewhat haughty answer.
"Oh! now I understand it all!" cried Lydia, an expression of sincere gratitude animating her countenance, while she clasped her hands fervently together: "you have taken compassion on me at length,—you discovered where I was residing,—you sent some friend to engage me as if for herself,—and you were determined to surprise me by this proof of your goodness—this token of your kind remembrance of me!"
"No," returned Adeline: "accident alone has brought you into my service: and you must well understand that I am not over well pleased with the coincidence. In a word, name the sum that will satisfy you for the loss of a good place—and take your departure. You can leave to me the invention of some proper excuse——"
"Is it possible?" ejaculated Lydia; "this cold—heartless—ungrateful reception——"
"Do you recollect to whom you are speaking?" demanded Adeline, the colour mounting to her cheeks.
"Oh! yes,—I know that full well—too well," said Lydia, again clasping her hands, and casting her eyes upwards, as if in appeal to heaven against the ingratitude of the world. "I stand in the presence of one to save whose good fame I sacrificed my own—to shield whom from the finger of scorn and reproach, I allowed myself to be made a victim! Yes, proud lady of Ravensworth—so many years have not elapsed since, in my cold and cheerless garret, in the depth of a winter night, you gave birth——"
"Silence, Lydia!" ejaculated Adeline, her lips quivering, and the colour coming and going on her cheeks with rapid alternations. "Let us not refer to the past. The present——"
"No," interrupted Lydia, in a solemn tone: "you can not—you shall not deter me from talking of the past. For you, lady, are so highly exalted above myself, that it is almost impossible for you to shape the least—the faintest—the most remote idea of the depth of misery into which I have been plunged. And yet I pant—I long—I feel a burning desire to make you comprehend all I have suffered;—because to my acquaintance with you—to my fatal connexion with you at the seminary—may be traced all the sorrows—the profound, ineffable woes—the degradations—the terrible afflictions that have since marked my career!"
"I will not hear more;—I cannot permit you thus to insult—to upbraid me," faltered Lady Ravensworth, her bosom agitated with the most cruel emotions.