“They’ve parted, ma’am,” said Peggy.
“Parted?” shrieked Jenny above the rattle of the carriage glass.
“Ah, yes, ma’am,” Peggy stammered; “cruel, ma’am, right cruel, cruel extraordinary. It’s a wonder the capt’n doesn’t think shame of his conduck. The poor misthress! She’s clane heartbroken. It’s a mercy to me she didn’t clout him.”
In two minutes more Jenny was in Mrs. Quiggin’s room at Castle Mona, crying, “Gracious me, Ellen, what is this your maid tells me?”
Nelly had been eating out her heart in silence all day long, and now the flood of her pride and wrath burst out, and she poured her wrongs upon Jenny as fiercely as if that lady stood for the transgressions of her husband.
“He reproached me with my poverty,” she cried.
“What?”
“Well, he told me I had only married him for his money—there’s not much difference.”
“And what did you say?” said Jenny.
“Say? What could I say? What would any woman say who had any respect for herself?”