the honour of
being our visitor here, how can I help speaking of it?" Belinda
was stitching very hard, and would not even raise her eyes. Clara,
who still held her needle in her hand, resumed her work, and for a
moment or two made no further answer. But Lady Aylmer had by no means
completed her task. "Miss Amedroz," she said, "you must allow me to
judge for myself in this matter. The subject is one on which I feel
myself obliged to speak to you."

"But I have got nothing to say about it."

"You have, I believe, admitted the truth of the allegations made
by us as to this woman." Clara was becoming very angry. A red spot
showed itself on each cheek, and a frown settled upon her brow. She
did not as yet know what she would say or how she would conduct
herself. She was striving to consider how best she might assert her
own independence. But she was fully determined that in this matter
she would not bend an inch to Lady Aylmer. "I believe we may take
that as admitted?" said her ladyship.

"I am not aware that I have admitted anything to you, Lady Aylmer, or
said anything that can justify you in questioning me on the subject."

"Justify me in questioning a young woman who tells me that she is to
be my future daughter-in-law!"

"I have not told you so. I have never told you anything of the kind."

"Then on what footing, Miss Amedroz, do you do us the honour of being
with us here at Aylmer Park?"

"On a very foolish footing."

"On a foolish footing! What does that mean?"

"It means that I have been foolish in coming to a house in which I am
subjected to such questioning."

"Belinda, did you ever hear anything like this? Miss Amedroz, I must
persevere, however much you may dislike it. The story of this woman's
life,--whether she be Mrs. Askerton or not, I don't know--"

"She is Mrs. Askerton," said Clara.

"As to that I do not profess to know, and I dare say that you are
no wiser than myself. But what she has been we do know." Here Lady
Aylmer raised her voice and continued to speak with all the eloquence
which assumed indignation could give her. "What she has been we do
know, and I ask you, as a duty which I owe to my son, whether you
have put an end to your acquaintance with so very disreputable a
person,--a person whom even to have known is a disgrace?"

"I know her, and--"

"Stop one minute, if you please. My questions are these--Have you put
an end to that acquaintance? And are you ready to give a promise