A great compassion flooded Rachel's heart for this poor creature, with its house of cards. Then her face became fixed as a surgeon's who gets out his knife.
"I think I ought to tell you—you ought to know—that I care for Mr. Scarlett."
"He is mine," said Lady Newhaven instantly, her blue eyes dilating.
"He is unmarried, and I am unmarried," said Rachel, hoarsely. "I don't know how it came about, but I have gradually become attached to him."
"He is not unmarried. It is false. He is my husband in the sight of Heaven. I have always, through everything, looked upon him as such."
This seemed more probable than that Heaven had so regarded him. Rachel did not answer. She had confided her love to no one, not even to Hester; and to speak of it to Lady Newhaven had been like tearing the words out of herself with hot pincers.
"I knew he was poor, but I did, not know he was as poor as that," said Lady Newhaven, after a pause.
Rachel got up suddenly, and moved away to the fireplace. She felt it would be horribly easy to strangle that voice.
"And you came down here pretending to be my friend, while all the time you were stealing his heart from me."
Still Rachel did not answer. Her forehead was pressed against the mantel-shelf. She prayed urgently that she might stay upon the hearth-rug, that whatever happened she might not go near the sofa.