"Lady Ravensworth," said the Colonel, rather averting his glance as he spoke—for he experienced the full embarrassment of this encounter,—"necessity, and not my wish, has compelled me to intrude upon your hospitality. My friend Lord Dunstable and another officer in the same regiment had an altercation last evening, which would permit of none other than a hostile settlement. The choice of time and place, fell by the laws of honour, to Lord Dunstable's opponent; and the vicinity of your abode was unfortunately fixed upon as the spot for meeting. My friend was grievously wounded with the first shot; and I had no alternative but to convey him to the nearest habitation where hospitality might be hoped for. Your ladyship can now understand the nature of that combination of circumstances which has brought me hither."
"I deeply regret that Lord Ravensworth should be too much indisposed to do the honours of his house in person," said Adeline, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and a deep blush upon her cheeks. "Is your friend's wound dangerous?"
"Mr. Graham, a surgeon of known skill, is now with him," answered the Colonel; "and entertains great hopes of being enabled to extract the ball, which has lodged in the right side. It is true that I incur some risk by remaining in the neighbourhood of the metropolis; but I cannot consent to abandon my friend until I am convinced that he is beyond danger."
"It is the fashion in the aristocratic world to adhere to a friend, but to abandon the seduced girl when she no longer pleases," said Lydia Hutchinson, who had entered the room unperceived by either Colonel Cholmondeley or Lady Ravensworth, and who now advanced slowly towards them.
The Colonel stared at Lydia for a few moments: but evidently not recognising her, he turned a rapid glance of inquiry upon Adeline, who only hung down her head, and remained silent.
"I see that you do not know me, sir," continued Lydia, approaching close to Colonel Cholmondeley: then, fixing her eyes intently upon him, she said, "Do you remember me now?"
"My good young woman," replied the Colonel, with a mixture of hauteur and bantering jocularity, "I really do not think that you have served in any family which I have had the honour to visit: and, even if you had, I must candidly confess that my memory is not capacious enough to retain the image of every lady's-maid whom I may happen to see."
"And yet it is not every lady's-maid," said Lydia, with a scornful glance towards Adeline, who, pale and trembling, had sunk upon a seat,—"it is not every lady's-maid that can venture to talk thus openly—thus familiarly in the presence of her mistress."
While she was yet speaking, a light broke upon the Colonel's mind. Who but one acquainted with Lady Ravensworth's secret could be capable of such extraordinary conduct? This idea led him to survey Lydia Hutchinson's countenance more attentively than before;—and, although it was much altered,—although it no longer bore the blooming freshness which had characterised it when he first knew her,—still the expression and the features enabled him to recognise the young woman who had become the victim of his friend Lord Dunstable.
"Ah! you know me now," continued Lydia, perceiving by a sudden gesture on the part of the Colonel that he had at length remembered her. "Think you that I have no reproaches to hurl at you, sir? Was it not at your house that my ruin was consummated? and were you no party to the infamous treachery which gave me to the arms of your friend? But you have no shame:—you are a fashionable gentleman—a roué—one who considers seduction an aristocratic amusement, as well as wrenching off knockers or breaking policemen's heads. What to such as you are the tears of deceived and lost girls? what to you are the broken hearts of fond parents? Nothing—nothing: I know it well! And therefore it were vain for me to say another word—unless it be that I shall now leave you to make your peace as best you may with your cast-off mistress there!"