"I cannot tell," faltered the white lips.
"That is strange," said Mrs. Desmond, scornfully. "Has he left you?"
"Yes, madam," with a pitiful droop of the fair head.
"Why did he do so?" inquired the lady
"I cannot tell you," Golden murmured, sorrowfully.
Ah, if Mrs. Desmond had only known the truth, that it was her brother's wife kneeling there ashamed and dejected before her. But she did not dream it, and her anger rose at the girl's unsatisfactory replies to her questions.
"I will not ask you any more questions," she said, "I do not wish to hear more of your weak falsehoods. Get up from there, and go. Leave the house now and at once, before I publish your conduct to everyone. You need not go to Mrs. Markham for sympathy. I shall go to her at once and tell her what you are."
Golden stood still, staring at her blankly a moment. She was dazed and frightened at the shameful suspicion that had fallen upon her, and she did not know how to convince Mrs. Desmond of her innocence.
"Oh, madam, if I could only induce you to believe that I am not the vile creature you think me," she cried in anguish.
"Hush; leave the room!" Mrs. Desmond answered stormily. "Go, and take with you the bitterest curse of an injured woman. May the good God speedily avenge my cruel wrongs!"