"Ah, my poor child!" she began, assuming a sympathetic tone, "one cannot blame you for just indignation at having been so deeply wronged. I never would have believed Sir William capable of such dishonor. But surely you will never think of subjecting yourself to an ordeal so terrible as that you have just proposed."
"Why should I not? Why should I shrink from anything that will right this wrong? Nothing can hurt me more than I have been hurt to-day," Virgie answered, spiritedly, yet with inconceivable bitterness.
"But think of Sir William's family. They are exceedingly sensitive and proud spirited, and they would never tolerate your claim for an instant; no shadow of dishonor has ever touched them in any way, and they would not endure the scandal."
"Think of Sir William's family! Why should I consider them? Madam, it is myself of whom I have to think—myself and my innocent little one; and do you suppose I will tolerate the indignity which has been offered me? Is not my good name and that of my child as much at stake, and of as much value as the name of Heath?" Virgie cried, her proud spirit blazing forth in righteous indignation.
"But Sir William is a peer of the realm."
"A peer!"
Mrs. Farnum actually cringed beneath the scorn that rang out in the young wife's tone as she repeated these words:
"And are peers of the realm exempt from all dishonor when they violate every law, both human and divine?" she continued, with stinging sarcasm. "Does the code of your nobility provide that young and innocent girls, who are basely betrayed, shall sit tamely down and meekly bear their injuries, so that your peers of the realm can go unscathed? If so, thank heaven that your laws do not prevail in this country. You are yourself a mother—you are proud of your beautiful daughter; but think you if she stood in my place you would advise her to consider the feelings of Sir William's family, to ignore her rights, and shut her eyes to her own injuries, lest she cast a shadow of dishonor upon their proud escutcheon? And do you think that I am less of a woman than she—that I am devoid of fine sensibilities, of pride and self-respect?"
Mrs. Farnum had winced as under a lash during all this spirited speech. Its scorn and sarcasm stung her keenly, and made her very angry. She longed to revenge herself upon the proud girl who had presumed to rank herself along with her daughter, by proclaiming the secret regarding her life, which she had so cunningly learned in San Francisco.
But she feared to arouse her further. She realized that she must seek to conciliate her, and try to persuade her not to take the mad journey to England which she seemed so bent upon.