Madame had drawn back hurriedly from the two with an expression of alarm and trouble on her mobile white face. At last:
"Oh, you know not what you ask!" she faltered, with emotion.
Growing ashen pale, Una cried out hoarsely:
"I am ready to hear—even the worst."
Eliot came to her side and drew her cold hand gently through his arm.
"Do not look so frightened, Una, my love," he said, gently. "If madame speaks the truth, she will say you are well-born and of noble parentage."
Madame gave him a look of fierce wrath and scorn.
"Are you so sure?" she sneered. "Better let me go, then, with your fatal question unanswered, and hug that vain delusion to your breast."
Eliot answered dauntlessly: