“Ah! then you have not forgotten what happened more than eight years ago?”
Lady Linton colored angrily.
“I could almost wish that I had died then, rather than that you should have saved me!” she said, passionately.
“Why?”
Gravely, almost solemnly, the brief inquiry was made.
“Because I hate you! You came between me and some of my brightest hopes. Because you——”
“No, it is not wholly that,” Virgie interposed quietly, while her grave, beautiful eyes searched Lady Linton’s face, with something of pity in them: “It is because you have injured me, and one is apt to dislike and shrink from another whom one has wronged.”
“How have I wronged you?” demanded Lady Linton, in a startled tone, and wondering how much the woman knew.
“I do not need to tell you. Your own conscience needs no other accuser than itself,” was the calm reply. “But it would have been far better had your ladyship constituted yourself my friend instead of my enemy.”
“I could never be your friend. I shall be your foe to the bitter end, and it was to warn you of this that I detained you to-day. If you have come to London with the intention of thrusting yourself and your daughter upon my brother, let me tell you to beware! You are a divorced woman; you have no claim whatever upon Sir William Heath, and your child shall never be acknowledged by his name. I have vowed this, and I mean it. You may think it all an idle threat, but if you are in London one month from to-day it will be at your peril. I will ruin you. I will so shame and humiliate you that you will be glad to hide yourself from all who know you. I will do even worse if need be. Nothing shall hinder me from making sure work this time.”