“And what do you want to do now?” asked the duchess, after she had read it.
“I will have revenge, my lady! He says he no longer has a heart to love; well, now, we will so manage, that he may no longer have a head to think. Will you be my ally, my lady?”
“I will.”
“And I also will be,” said the Duchess of Richmond, who just then opened the door and came out of the adjoining room.
Not a word of this entire conversation had escaped her, and she very well understood that the question was not about some petty vengeance, but her father’s head. She knew that Miss Holland was not a woman that, when irritated, pricked with a pin; but one that grasped the dagger to strike her enemy a mortal blow.
“Yes, I too will be your ally,” cried the Duchess of Richmond; “we have all three been outraged by the same man. Let, then, our revenge be a common one. The father has insulted you; the son, me. Well, then, I will help you to strike the father, if you in return will assist me to destroy the son.”
“I will assist you,” said Arabella, smiling; “for I also hate the haughty Earl of Surrey, who prides himself on his virtue, as if it were a golden fleece which God himself had stuck on his breast. I hate him; for he never meets me but with proud disregard; and he alone is to blame for his father’s faithlessness.”
“I was present when with tears he besought the duke, our father, to free himself from your fetters, and give up this shameful and disgraceful connection with you,” said the young duchess.
Arabella answered nothing. But she pressed her hands firmly together, and a slight pallor overspread her cheeks.
“And why are you angry with your brother?” asked the old duchess, thoughtfully.