"Yes; a little circumstance of which I was the accidental witness. But probably your ladyship will not think it worth while to listen to it."
"Probably it is not worth listening to, but still there can be no harm in your telling me."
"One evening, some two or three weeks before my cousin was taken ill," began Olive, "I was sitting in the bow-window of the back drawing-room. The curtains were partly drawn, and when Miss Lloyd came into the room she did not see me. She sat down at the piano and began to play: and as there was no third person present, I saw no reason for making my presence known. But after a time Mr. Pomeroy came in. He had just returned from a journey, and was evidently in search of Miss Lloyd. He hurried up to her, and, before I had time to say a word, he had folded her in his arms. Then he called her his darling, and kissed her several times."
"How dreadful--how very dreadful!" exclaimed Lady Dudgeon, with a sort of terror.
"And then----Miss Lloyd kissed him back."
Lady Dudgeon could only put down her cup of chocolate and groan.
In saying that Eleanor kissed Gerald back, Olive told a lie, a weakness that she was never guilty of unless she had some particular end to serve.
"And do you really mean to affirm, Miss Deane, that you saw these--these shocking things with your own eyes?" Lady Dudgeon contrived to say at last.
"Certainly; exactly as I have told your ladyship."
It was indeed dreadful. She had been hoodwinked and bamboozled under her own roof, and by this girl for whom she had done and sacrificed so much. Her feelings had been outraged in their tenderest point. Eleanor Lloyd was deposed from her throne for ever. What could anyone do for a person who could so far forget what was due both to herself and others?