"It is madam!" I replied, though a sharp pain seemed to rend my heart as I thought of all my words involved. "I cannot help you in this matter."
"Then you leave this house on the instant!" said my lady, sternly. "Taking with you my own and my husband's anger, and what relics of character your escapades here and in Newcastle have left you. You whom my husband, in his folly, has educated to be a fine lady at his expense. You shall learn what it is to be without a home."
Much more she said, which I will not set down here, calling me a beggar more than once.
"Not quite a beggar, madam, since Sir Julius has always drawn two hundred a year from my father's estate!" said I, as she paused from sheer lack of breath.
"As to what you threaten, I am in the hands of One who knows my innocence, and will not let my enemies triumph, even though they may seem to do so for a time. Oh, my lady, think, think of what you are doing before you take the last downward step that may make return impossible. Think of your own child in heaven, and of how you would have had her dealt by, before you go any farther. I do not speak for myself, though in driving me from my foster-sister, you are breaking both our hearts. I have both means and friends, who will not see me wronged."
"But think—oh think. The Judge even now stands before the door. Even now your hour may have struck, and the world you so love may be slipping from under your feet. Whose then will those things be which you have provided? What pleasure will they give you when you lie cold in death on yonder bed, and cannot raise so much as an eyelid to see or a finger to touch one of them? You might be so happy with Amabel, if you would. She would be to you all your own child might have been, if you would but let her. You know Lord Bulmer to be a wicked, hard, cruel man—you know it? Oh, do not sin by putting into his power the child the good Lord has given you, to make up for the one he took away, and to lead you to Heaven!"
My lady listened without interrupting me, and I almost thought she was going to yield. But she did not, though I believe her good angel whispered to her. Her face, which had softened for a moment, grew hard as stone, and her eyes shone balefully, while her red lips were compressed to a thread. She stood for a moment at the parting of two ways. Then she deliberately chose the wrong one, and walked on to her ruin. She would have the world for her portion, and she had it.
"You will leave this house at once!" said she, taking out her purse as she spoke. "Wilson will send your clothes after you wherever you choose. If Amabel ever speaks to you again, I will send her where she shall learn that there are worse things than step-mothers. But I do not wish to expose you to temptation by sending you away penniless. What wages are owing to you?"
My Cornish blood flashed up at this gratuitous insult.
"Thy money perish with thee!" said I. "I have enough of my own, but if I were starving, I would take nothing from your hand. As to my character, perhaps Mrs. Deborah's countenance may go as far in the country as Lady Throckmorton's."