if he chose to be a spy upon my
actions he could open it and read it."

"My dear, how could you bring yourself to use the word spy to your
husband?"

"How could he bring himself to accuse me as he did? If he cares for
me let him come and beg my pardon for the insult he has offered me."

"Oh, Mrs. Trevelyan,--"

"Yes; that seems very wrong to you, who have not had to bear it. It
is very easy for a stranger to take a husband's part, and help to put
down a poor woman who has been ill-used. I have done nothing wrong,
nothing to be ashamed of; and I will not say that I have. I never
have spoken a word to Colonel Osborne that all the world might not
hear."

"Nobody has accused you, my dear."

"Yes; he has accused me, and you have accused me, and you will make
all the world accuse me. He may put me out of his house if he likes,
but he shall not make me say I have been wrong, when I know I have
been right. He cannot take my child from me."

"But he will."

"No," shouted Mrs. Trevelyan, jumping up from her chair, "no; he
shall never do that. I will cling to him so that he cannot separate
us. He will never be so wicked,--such a monster as that. I would go
about the world saying what a monster he had been to me." The passion
of the interview was becoming too great for Lady Milborough's power
of moderating it, and she was beginning to feel herself to be in a
difficulty. "Lady Milborough," continued Mrs. Trevelyan, "tell him
from me that I will bear anything but that. That I will not bear."

"Dear Mrs. Trevelyan, do not let us talk about it."

"Who wants to talk about it? Why do you come here and threaten me
with a thing so horrible? I do not believe you. He would not dare to
separate me and my--child."

"But you have only to say that you will submit yourself to him."

"I have submitted myself to him, and I will submit no further. What
does he want? Why does he send you here? He does not know what he
wants. He has made himself miserable by an absurd idea, and he wants
everybody to tell him that he has been right. He has been very wrong;
and if he desires to be wise now, he will come back to his home,
and say nothing further about it. He will gain nothing by sending
messengers here."

Lady Milborough, who had undertaken a most disagreeable task from
the purest motives of old friendship, did not like being called a
messenger; but the woman before her was so strong in her words, so
eager, and so passionate, that she