‘Oh!’ was all that her ladyship could find to say at the moment.
Archie and Clarice stole quietly out of the room.
Lady Renshaw turned to her niece. ‘Am I to presume, Miss Wynter, that you have been a party to this vile fraud?’ she asked in her iciest tones. ‘Am I to understand that you have known all along that this person was Mr Dulcimer, and that you have been cognisant of this wicked conspiracy?’
Bella hung her head.
‘Your silence convicts you. It is even so, then. I have nourished a viper, and knew it not. But, understand me, from this time I discard you; I cast you off; I have done with you for ever!’
Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes. ‘O aunt, forgive me!’ she exclaimed as she sprang forward and tried to clasp her ladyship’s hand.
The latter drew back a step or two and waved her away. ‘Touch me not!’ she said. ‘Henceforth, you and I are strangers. You have chosen to sacrifice me for the sake of this impostor. Marry him—you can do no less now—and become a pauper’s wife for the rest of your days. That is your fate.’
Lady Renshaw turned without another word, drew her skirts closer around her, and stalked slowly out of the room.
The weeping girl would have hurried after her, had not Dick put his arm round her and held her fast.
‘No,’ he said; ‘you shall not go just yet. She wants to make you believe that she is an ill-used victim, whereas it is you who have been the victim all along. Yes, the victim of her greed, her selfishness, and her willingness to sacrifice you for the sake of her own social advancement. What would she have cared whom you married, or whether you were happy or miserable, if only, by your means, she could have climbed one rung higher on the ladder of her ambition! Here is the proof: Now that she finds you are no longer of use to her for the furtherance of her schemes, she casts you off with as little compunction as she would an old glove. Dearest, she is not worth your tears!’