"I've come to tell you, Lady Alice, that I believe I was wrong the other night to speak to you as I did."
"I thought, Jane," replied the old lady with dignity, "you would come to view your conduct in that light."
"I thought you were right all the time; that is, I thought you meant kindly. I wished to tell you so," said Lady Jane.
"I am glad, Jane, you can now speak with temper."
"And I think you are the only person alive, except poor Lennox, who really cares for me."
"I knew, Jane, that reflection and conscience would bring you to this form of mind," said Lady Alice.
"And I think, when I come to say all this to you, you ought not to receive me so."
"I meant to receive you kindly, Jane; one can't always in a moment forget the pain and humiliation which such scenes produce. It will help me, however, your expressing your regret as you do."
"Well, I believe I am a fool—I believe I deserve this kind of treatment for lowering myself as I have done. The idea of my coming in here, half dressed, to say all this, and being received in this—in this indescribable way!"
"If you don't feel it, Jane, I'm sorry you should have expressed any sorrow for your misconduct," replied Lady Alice, loftily.