“And to think,” she moaned in a muffled voice, with her face downward and hidden with her hands; “to think it was his deserted wife that I shopped for in the last days before my marriage with him—that it was his deserted wife with her child—his child—that came over in the same steamer with him and myself on our bridal trip! Ah! now I know why he got off the ship at Queenstown! It was to get out of her sight and to avoid encountering her father who was to meet her at Liverpool. She was his lawful wife, and knew it, and she knew then that I was—what was I?—what am I? Oh! I shall go mad! mad! mad!” she shrieked, flinging off her fathers hand, springing from the sofa, clasping her head between her palms and walking wildly up and down the floor. “My dear, dear child, don’t go on like this! Come and sit down. Try to compose yourself,” pleaded poor John Legg, walking after his daughter. “Oh, hold your tongue! Let me alone! Don’t I know what you are thinking in your heart all this time? You are saying to yourself that this is just what you always expected! Just what I deserved! You are glad of it in your heart! Glad to see me punished! Glad to see me mortified!” she cried fiercely, angry with her father because she was angry with herself, her betrayer and all the world. “My dear Lyddy! My darling girl! I know you are not accountable for what you say now. I blame you for nothing, child, not even for your words. I could not have the cruelty to do it. But try to compose yourself and believe that we love you and will serve you and comfort you! Lyddy, my daughter, we cannot offer you the wealth and grandeur and luxuries that you have been lately used to, but, my dear, a safe home and solid comforts, and peaceful days and family affection you shall not lack, my girl—you shall never lack,” pleaded her father; and while he spoke he followed her up and down with outstretched arms ready to infold her, up and down, pleading with her, turning when she turned until at length she whirled around upon him and hissed at him through her set teeth, her hard words dropping like leaden bullets from the mold: “Will—you—mind—your—own—business? I am of age! I thought I was Mrs. Randolph Hay, of Haymore! Lady of the manor here! I entered this house as its lawful mistress! For what? To find myself deceived, betrayed, entrapped! Now what am I! Something that must not even be named to respectable ears like yours!” “Oh, my dear child! To me you are my wronged and blameless daughter! Well, rave on! I cannot help it, though it cuts my heart like a sword! Maybe it relieves you to talk like this. But presently I hope you will take thought and come home with me to be comforted,” pleaded John Legg. Lamia burst into a cruel, sarcastic laugh.