effect was so deadly in its venom as to be absolutely pitiless.
At first Harriet was overwhelmed. The force of the attack was beyond anything she had looked for. Moreover, it seemed to fill the Duke, an unwilling auditor, with anger and pain. He moved uneasily in his chair, yet he was not able to check the cold torrent of quasi-insult by word of mouth, for none knew better than Lady Wargrave how to administer castigation without going outside the rules of the game.
Even when the shock of the first blows was past, Harriet could find no means of defending herself. She was a very proud woman. Her blamelessness in what she could only regard as a very odious matter was so clear to her own mind that it did not seem to call for re-statement. She, too, said nothing. But a hot flush came upon the thin cheek.
Lady Wargrave grew more and more incensed by a silence, the cause of which she completely mistook.
"You have been nearly thirty years here, Mrs. Sanderson, and you have been guilty of a wicked abuse of trust."
The painful pause which followed this final blow was broken at last by the Duke.
"You must forgive me, Charlotte, if I say that the facts of the case as they have been presented, hardly justify such a statement."
The tone was honey. And it was in such ironical contrast to Charlotte's own that nothing could have shown more clearly the wide gulf between their points of view or the envenomed strife of many years now coming to a head.
