In a moment the visitor entered—a slight, girlish form, whose features were partially hidden from view by a heavy lace veil, which was thrown over her satin hood. A single glance convinced Mrs. Graham that it was a lady, a well-bred lady, who stood before her, and very politely she bade her be seated.
Rather haughtily the proffered chair was declined, while the veil was thrown aside, disclosing to the astonished gaze of Mrs. Graham the face of ’Lena Rivers, which was unnaturally pale, while her dark eyes grew darker with the intensity of her feelings.
“’Lena Rivers! why came you here?” she asked, while at the mention of that name Durward started to his feet, but quickly resumed his seat, listening with indescribable emotions to the sound of a voice which made every nerve quiver with pain.
“You ask me why I am here, madam,” said ’Lena. “I came to seek an explanation from you—to know of what I am accused—to ask why you wrote me that insulting letter—me, an orphan girl, alone and unprotected in the world, and who never knowingly harmed you or yours.”
“Never harmed me or mine!” scornfully repeated Mrs. Graham. “Don’t add falsehood to your other sins—though, if you’ll lie to my son, you of course will to me, his mother.”
“Explain yourself, madam, if you please,” exclaimed ’Lena, her olden temper beginning to get the advantage of her.
“And what if I do not please?” sneeringly asked Mrs. Graham.
“Then I will compel you to do so, for my good name is all I have, and it shall not be wrested from me without an effort on my part to preserve it,” answered ’Lena.
“Perhaps you expect my husband to stand by you and help you. I am sure it would be very ungentlemanly in him to desert you, now,” said Mrs. Graham, her manner conveying far more meaning than her words.
’Lena trembled from head to foot, and her voice was hardly distinct as she replied, “Will you explain yourself, or will you not? What have I done, that you should treat me thus?”