has any right to say a word."

Even now Lucy was scarcely roused enough to be surprised by the
vehemence of these words. "Why should I object?" she said; "or why
should any one say a word?" Her calm, which was almost indifference,
excited Lady Randolph more and more.

"You are either superhuman," she said, with exasperation, "or you
are---- Lucy, I don't know what words to use. You put one out of every
reckoning. You are like nobody I ever knew before. Why should you
object? Why, good heavens! you are the only person that has any
right---- Who should object if not you?"

"Aunt Randolph," said Lucy, rousing herself with an effort, "would you
please tell me plainly what you mean? I am not clever. I can't make
things out. I have always liked Bice. To save her from being made a
victim I am going to give her some of the money under my father's
will--and if I could give her---- What is the matter?" she cried,
stopping short suddenly, and in spite of herself growing pale.

Lady Randolph flung up her hands in dismay. She gave something like a
shriek as she exclaimed: "And Tom is letting you do this?" with horror
in her tone.

"He has promised that he will not oppose," Lucy said; "but why do you
speak so, and look so? Bice--has done no harm."

"Oh, no; Bice has done no harm," cried Lady Randolph bitterly; "nothing,
except being born, which is harm enough, I think. But do you mean to
tell me, Lucy, that Tom--a man of honour, notwithstanding all his
vagaries--Tom----lets you do this and never says a word? Oh, it is too
much. I have always stood by him. I have been his support when every one
else failed. But this is too much, that he should put the burden upon
you--that he should make _you_ responsible for this girl of his----"

"Aunt Randolph!" cried Lucy, rising up quickly and confronting the angry
woman. She put up her hand with a serious dignity that was doubly
impressive from her usual simpleness. "What is it you mean? This girl of
his! I do not understand. She is not much more than a child. You cannot,
cannot suppose that Bice--that it is she--that she is----" Here she
suddenly covered her face with her hands. "Oh, you put things in my mind
that I am ashamed to think of," Lucy cried.

"I mean," said Lady Randolph, who in the heat of this discussion had got
beyond her own power of self-restraint, "what everybody but yourself
must have seen long ago. That woman is a shameless woman, but even she
would not have had the