and sobbed as though she would have
broken her heart in the bitterness of her spirit. She had told him
the plainest, simplest truest story, and he had received it without
one word of comment in her favour,--without one sign to show that her
truthfulness had been acknowledged by him! He had told her that this
man, who had done her so great an injury, was a blackguard; but of
her own conduct he had not allowed himself to speak. She knew that
his judgment had gone against her, and though she felt it to be
hard,--very hard,--she resolved that she would make no protest
against it. Of course she would leave the Cedars. Only a few hours
since she had assured herself that it was her duty henceforward to
obey him in everything. But that was now all changed. Whatever he
might say to the contrary, she would go. If he chose to follow her
whither she went, and again ask her to be his wife she would receive
him with open arms. Oh, yes; let him only once again own that she was
worthy of him, and then she would sit at his feet and confess her
folly, and ask his pardon a thousand times for the trouble she had
given him. But unless he were to do this she would never again beg
for favour. She had made her defence, and had, as she felt, made it
in vain. She would not condescend to say one other word in excuse of
her conduct.

As for her aunt, all terms between Lady Ball and herself must be at
an end. Lady Ball had passed a day with her in the house without
speaking to her, except when that man had come, and then she had
taken part with him! Her aunt, she thought, had been untrue to
hospitality in not defending the guest within her own walls; she had
been untrue to her own blood, in not defending her husband's niece;
but, worse than all that, ten times worse, she had been untrue as
from one woman to another! Margaret, as she thought of this, rose
from the bed and walked wildly through the room unlike any Griselda.
No; she would have no terms with Lady Ball. Lady Ball had understood
it all, though John had not done so! She had known how it all was,
and had pretended not to know. Because she had an object of her own
to gain, she had allowed these calumnies to be believed! Let come
what might, they should all know that Margaret Mackenzie, poor,
wretched, destitute as she was, had still spirit enough to resent
such injuries as these.

In the morning she sent down word by one of her young cousins that
she would not come to breakfast, and she