Lady Wetheral gazed upon the vision in dumb amazement.
"Look at me," continued Julia, "look at my figure, and tell me if you believed all this would come to pass? When you assured me that wealth and rank was happiness and virtue, did you think I should return a fugitive, to seek shelter at your hands?"
"Julia!" gasped Lady Wetheral, "Julia! go! who are you?"
"Go?" exclaimed Lady Ennismore, "where shall I go? To Clara? Shall I rest with poor peace after my sacrifice, my absence, and my griefs?"
The tremour which attacked Lady Wetheral's frame was alarming. It precluded speech: she hid her face with her hands, as Lady Ennismore proceeded.
"For quitting a husband's home, I may be censured and avoided by the world, for it may never know my provocations and my struggles, but I should not be turned from my mother's presence! I should not be banished by the author of all my misery, as if she had no part in the misery which I endure!"
"Do not say so—oh, do not say so! Do not blame me, as Clara did!" Lady Wetheral sobbed aloud.
"I reproach no one," answered Lady Ennismore, mournfully. "I reproach no one, though I was promised happiness as the wife of Ennismore. Where is that happiness? You foretold it, mother. You said I should for ever enjoy wealth and station, and become the envied gaze of thousands! Where is it all?"
"Cease, cease!" cried Lady Wetheral, wrung by feelings of alarm and self-reproach. "I wished you to marry Pynsent, Julia!"