Ida May hung down her head.
"I must and will know!" cried the lady, pitilessly. "Are you watching for the butler or any of the servants?"
The young girl lifted her head as proudly as any young queen might have done. She remembered those weeks at Newport, during which she had been considered the equal of the wealthiest girl there.
"No, madame!" she answered, sharply, "I was not waiting for any of your servants to appear, but for one of your guests."
The lady gave a little gasp; but in an instant she recovered herself.
"A guest!" she repeated. "Of whom are you speaking?"
"Mr. Royal Ainsley," replied Ida May, gasping the words out brokenly, the tears falling like rain down her face.
"Come inside," said the lady, drawing her hurriedly into the hall-way, lest she should create a scene. "Now," she said, standing before the girl with folded arms, "let me hear all about the matter. You must speak the truth, or I will certainly force it from you."
"It would illy become me to speak anything but the truth," responded Ida May. "Royal Ainsley comes here to see some beautiful young girl who lives in this house. But this must not be. He is mine—mine—by every tie that binds man to woman!"
"Surely he is not your—your—husband?" exclaimed the lady, excitedly.