It was none other than Ulrica Hardyng, who stood before her in propria personae.  She had, in pursuance of a resolution made some weeks before, determined to be present, although uninvited, at this meeting, and justify her friend before her numerous assailants.

“You here?” articulated the woman, guiltily, as she gazed fearfully at the stern, set face before her.

“Yes, I am here,” was the reply, in a voice that trembled with outraged feeling, despite the powerful effort for self-control; “to prove that I know you at last, as the woman who won my husband from me.

“Good people,” she said, turning to the astonished and abashed spectators, “this woman has told you the truth, mainly, concerning me, at least; but with one reservation.  She is the daughter of this Mrs. Bailey, whom she represented as a servant, and the cast-off mistress of the Geoffrey Westbourne who was once my husband.”

A denial trembled upon the lips of the woman, who shrank away in abject terror, but her voice failed her.  The impassible face that looked down upon her seemed the very personification of unrelenting justice.

“Woman,” she said coldly, “your sin has found you out.”

The groveling figure suddenly erected itself with a defiant gesture.  “Well, and what of that?” rising, and looking boldly around.  “It must have happened some time or other, and I’m sick of this whining hypocrisy.  I had rather go back to the old life again, where there is no restraint.  But I am as good as the rest, I tell you, Ulrica Hardyng.  These women, who profess Christianity, have deliberately robbed a poor, innocent, unoffending girl of her reputation, because they were jealous of her youth and fair looks, and mental superiority.  Besides that, a dozen or more of these pious ladies were in love with the man who wanted to marry her, in the face of them all, and who was cooly rejected.  I would have defended the poor thing myself, but you had to take up on her side, and then, because the friend of one I hate can only be my enemy, I sought to drag her down to my own level.”

“And you put the finishing stroke to your malicious efforts,” said that lady, “to-day by a tissue of falsehoods against her.  At present I shall not attempt to refute these assertions, knowing that right will ultimately triumph.  I understand your tactics thoroughly, Caroline Bailey, and I am not even surprised that you are ashamed to own your wretched parent, who has put you in possession of these few facts mixed with so much falsehood.”

“How did you learn my real name?” asked the woman in amazement.

“Through an old friend whom I persuaded to trace out your whole career,” was the reply.  “I could have forgiven my wrongs at your hands, but when you saw fit to attack that inoffensive girl, I determined to unmask you.”

“And much good may it do you,” was the cool rejoinder.  “I am tired of this monotonous existence, and had already decided soon to leave this humdrum village.  As for proving your assertions, you need not be at the trouble.  I do not deny a word you have uttered.  It’s all true, and more.”