“And to think that all this is mine! and how little she dreams of it!” said Nora, in an awe-struck whisper to her own heart, as she gazed around upon all this wealth until at last her eye fell upon the stately form of the lady as she sat alone upon a sofa at the back of the room.
“Come here, my girl, if you please,” said Mrs. Brudenell.
Nora advanced timidly until she had reached to within a yard of the lady, when she stopped, courtesied, and stood with folded hands waiting, pretty much as a child would stand when called up before its betters for examination.
“Your name is Nora Worth, I believe,” said the lady.
“My name is Nora, madam,” answered the girl.
“You are Hannah Worth’s younger sister?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Now, then, my girl, do you know why I have sent for you here to-night?”
“No, madam.”
“Are you quite sure that your conscience does not warn you?”
Nora was silent.
“Ah, I have my answer!” remarked the lady in a low voice; then raising her tone she said:
“I believe that my son, Mr. Herman Brudenell, is in the habit of daily visiting your house; is it not so?”
Nora looked up at the lady for an instant and then dropped her eyes.
“Quite sufficient! Now, my girl, as by your silence you have admitted all my suppositions, I must speak to you very seriously. And in the first place I would ask you, if you do not know, that when a gentleman of Mr. Brudenell’s high position takes notice of a girl of your low rank, he does so with but one purpose? Answer me!”
“I do not understand you, madam.”
“Very well, then, I will speak more plainly! Are you not aware, I would say, that when Herman Brudenell visits Nora Worth daily for months he means her no good?”
Nora paused for a moment to turn this question over in her mind before replying.
“I cannot think, madam, that Mr. Herman Brudenell could mean anything but good to any creature, however humble, whom he deigned to notice!”
“You are a natural fool or a very artful girl, one or the other!” said the lady, who was not very choice in her language when speaking in anger to her inferiors.
“You admit by your silence that Mr. Brudenell has been visiting you daily for months; and yet you imply that in doing so he means you no harm! I should think he meant your utter ruin!”
“Mrs. Brudenell!” exclaimed Nora, in a surprise so sorrowful and indignant that it made her forget herself and her fears, “you are speaking of your own son, your only son; you are his mother, how can you accuse him of a base crime?”
“Recollect yourself, my girl! You surely forget the presence in which you stand! Baseness, crime, can never be connected with the name of Brudenell. But young gentlemen will be young gentlemen, and amuse themselves with just such credulous fools as you!” said the lady haughtily.