"You must be aware that your services are no longer acceptable here," she was saying. "In fact you would never have been given the situation had I known of this disgraceful connection; and I must say I am justly indignant at the gross deception that has been practiced upon me."
"She must be speaking to Miss Worth; oh, what cruel words!" thought Mildred.
She had reached the landing, and turning to ascend the short flight above, caught sight of the speaker and the person addressed.
Miss Worth stood leaning against the wall, one hand clutching at the balustrade for support, her face deathly pale, and her lips trembling; Mrs. Dinsmore standing a few feet from her, gathering her dainty skirts close to her person as if fearful of contamination, her aristocratic nose high in the air, her countenance expressing scorn, contempt, and righteous indignation.
"What have you to say for yourself?" she demanded.
"Nothing, but that I am guiltless of any intentional wrong," the governess replied, lifting her head, and speaking in a tone of quiet despair, "and that I have faithfully performed my duties to the best of my ability."
"You don't deny, then, that this scoundrel, this felon—"
"Madame," interrupted the governess, her eyes flashing, while a bright red spot burned on each cheek, "he is not that, for he has never been convicted of, nor so much as brought to trial for any crime."
"Insolence!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinsmore. "Well, if he hasn't been yet, he soon will be, and get his deserts, I sincerely hope."
And picking up the newspaper, which seemed to have dropped from Miss Worth's nerveless hand, she swept on toward Juliet's apartments; in another moment had disappeared within them, shutting the door after her.