"You are my lord's wife," interrupted Miss Chressham, withdrawn again into a cold reserve, and armed with angry pride.
"My lord's wife!" repeated the Countess Lavinia. "That to you, and no more. My lord's wife to be reclaimed like a straying dog and sent back shivering to my post! My lord's wife! But I am more, madam; I am a woman."
She rose impetuously and leant against the spinet, her muslin ruffles touching the white roses.
"What's to do?" muttered Marius. He looked from one woman to another in a desperate, helpless fashion, as if he sought some cue. In his eyes was the bewildered, appealing reproach of a wounded animal.
Miss Chressham spoke to the Countess with her glance and her gesture as well as her words.
"Do you think I can retire leaving you here? If it be useless to quote honour or shame, ye cannot ignore decency. Ye cannot, under my eyes, leave the house in the company of Captain Lyndwood; also your maid is below."
"Wretch to have betrayed me!" exclaimed the Countess. "What is her motive? She wishes to keep me in my place because it means to her so much in money, in comfort, in this and that. What is your motive? You wish to save my lord's face before the town. Neither you nor she care what becomes of me!" She shivered with scorn. "No one would—not my Lady Agatha. I might go to damnation for all of you, did it not suit your convenience or your pride to keep me honest. What would my lord care for any sin of mine, did it not touch him?"
She pressed her hands to her bosom, and took a step or two towards Miss Chressham, her whole slight body trembling.
"Away with your flimsy morality!" she said. "You speak for yourself, I for myself, and your object is no worthier than mine. My lord and the name of Lyndwood is as little to me as my happiness is to you. There is no argument that you can touch me with."
"Lavinia!" interrupted Marius, in a low and terrible voice, "I will not hear you speak in such fashion."