There was a short pause; after which Lady Carse said, in no unamiable tone, “I do not say these things by way of asking your advice. I know my own feelings and circumstances, and the behaviour of my family to me, better than you can do. I may be left to judge for myself; but it is natural, when a summons may come any day, to tell you what I think of the past; and of how I shall act in the time to come.”
“I quite understand that,” said Annie. “And I like to hear all you like to tell me without judging or advising, unless you ask me.”
“Well, I fairly own to you—and you may take the confession for what it is worth—if I had to live the last twenty years over again, I should in some respects act differently, I now believe that I have said and done some things that I had better not. But I was driven to it. I have been most cruelly treated.”
“You have.”
“And if they had only known how to treat me! Why, you are not afraid of me, are you?”
“Not in the least.”
“And you never were?”
“Never.”
“Why, there now! But you are a woman of sense.”
“I am not afraid of you, and never was,” said Annie looking calmly in her face; “but I can understand how some people might be.”