"Oh! God have mercy upon me!" she exclaimed, in a voice scarcely audible through the convulsions of her grief: "how dearly—dearly am I now paying for the errors of my youth!"
"Does that sight not move you, woman?" muttered the nobleman between his grinding teeth, as he accosted Lydia, and pointed to the lamentable condition of his wife.
"My lord, I lost all by serving the interests of her who is now Lady Ravensworth; and it is time that I should think only of my own."
This reply was given with a frigid—stern—and inexorable calmness, that struck despair to the heart of the unhappy nobleman and his still more wretched wife.
"Then be it all as you say—be it all as you wish, despotic woman!" cried Lord Ravensworth. "Remain here—command us all—drive us to despair—for our honour is unhappily in your remorseless hands."
With these words, the nobleman rushed from the room in a state bordering on distraction.
A few minutes of profound silence elapsed.
Lydia remained standing near the mantel, gazing with joyful triumph on Adeline, whose head was buried in her hands, and whose bosom gave vent to convulsive sobs.
Suddenly Lady Ravensworth looked up, and gazed wildly around her.
"He is gone—and you are still there!" she said, in a low and hoarse voice. "Now we are alone together—and doubtless I am to look upon you as one determined to drive me to despair. What other motive had you for insisting upon remaining here?"