Lizzie’s brow darkened.
“I’m Mrs. Carter!” she said drawing herself up with conscious pride.
“Carter?” said Starr politely.
“Yes, I’m the wife of the man you’re goin’ to marry tonight, an’ this is his child, I thought I’d come an’ tell you ’fore ’twas too late. I thought ef you had enny goodness in you you’d put a stop to this an’ give me my rights, an’ you seem to hev some heart. Can’t you call it off? You wouldn’t want to take my husband away from me, would you? You can get plenty others an’ I’m jest a plain workin’ girl, an’ he’s mine anyhow, an’ this is his kid.”
Starr had started to her feet, her eyes wide, her hand fluttering to her heart.
“Stop!” she cried. “You must be crazy to say such things. My poor girl, you have made a great mistake. Your husband is some other Mr. Carter I suppose. My Mr. Carter is not that kind of a man. He has never been married—”
“Yes, he has!” interposed Lizzie fiercely, “He’s married all right, an’ I got the c’tif’ct all right too, only I couldn’t bring it this time cause I lef’ it with my lawyer; but you can see it ef you want to, with his name all straight, “Sty-Vee-Zant Carter,” all writ out. I see to it that he writ it himself. I kin read meself, pretty good, so I knowed.”
“I am very sorry for you,” said Starr sweetly, though her heart was heating violently in spite of her efforts to be calm and to tell herself that she must get rid of this wretched impostor without making a scene for the servants to witness: “I am very sorry, but you have made some great mistake. There isn’t anything I can do for you now, but later when I come back to New York if you care to look me up I will try to do something for baby.”
Lizzie stood erect in the middle of the little room, her face slowly changing to a stony stare, her eyes fairly blazing with anger.
“De’yer mean ter tell me yer a goin’ t’go on an’ marry my husban’ jes’ ez ef nothin’ had happened? Ain’t yer goin’ ter ast him ef it’s true ner nothin’? Ain’t yer goin’ t’ find out what’s true ’bout him? R d’ye want ’im so bad ye don’t care who yer hurt, or wot he is, so long’s he makes a big splurge before folks? Ain’t you a-goin’ ter ast him ’bout it?”