“Girl! what is it to you whether Mr. Brudenell has a wife or not?  What are you to Mr. Herman Brudenell?”

“Nothing, madam; nothing for evermore,” wailed Nora, without looking up or changing her posture.

“Humph!  I am glad to hear it, I am sure!” grunted Mrs. Brudenell.

“Nothing? you say; nothing?” questioned Lady Hurstmonceux.

“Nothing in this world, madam; nothing whatever! so be at ease.”  It was another wail of the storm-swept heart-strings.

“I truly believe you; I ought to have believed without asking you; but who, then, has been your betrayer, my poor girl?” inquired the young matron in tones of deepest pity.

This question at length shook the statue; a storm passed through her; she essayed to speak, but her voice failed.

“Tell me, poor one; and I will do what I can to right your wrongs.  Who is it?”

“Myself!” moaned Nora, closing her eyes as if to shut out all light and life, while a spasm drew back the corners of her mouth and convulsed her face.

“Enough of this, Berenice!  You forget the girls!” said Mrs. Brudenell, putting her hand to the bell and ringing again.

“I beg your pardon, madam; I did indeed forget the presence of the innocent and happy in looking upon the erring and wretched,” said Lady Hurstmonceux.

“That will do,” said the elder lady.  “Here is Jovial at last!  Why did you not come when I first rang?” she demanded of the negro, who now stood in the door.

“I ’clare, mist’ess, I never heerd it de fust time, madam.”

“Keep your ears open in future, or it will be the worse for you!  And now what excuse can you offer for disobeying my express orders, and not only admitting this creature to the house, but even bringing her to our presence?” demanded the lady severely.

“I clare ’fore my ’vine Marster, madam, when Miss Nora come in de storm to de kitchen-door, looking so wild and scared like, and asked to see de young madam dere, I t’ought in my soul how she had some news of de young marster to tell! an’ dat was de why I denounced her into dis drawin’-room.”

“Do not make such a mistake again! if you do I will make you suffer severely for it!  And you, shameless girl! if you presume to set foot on these premises but once again, I will have you sent to the work-house as a troublesome vagrant.”

Nora did not seem to hear her; she had relapsed into her stony, trance-like stupor.

“And now, sir, since you took the liberty of bringing her in, put her out—­out of the room, and out of the house!” said Mis.  Brudenell.

“Mamma! what! at midnight! in the snow-storm?” exclaimed Lady Hurstmonceux, in horror.

“Yes! she shall not desecrate the bleakest garret, or the lowest cellar, or barest barn on the premises!”

“Mamma!  It would be murder!  She would perish!” pleaded the young lady.

“Not she!  Such animals are used to exposure!  And if she and all like her were to ‘perish,’ as you call it, the world would be so much the better for it!  They are the pests of society!”