That night again, old Lady Alice, just settling, and having actually swallowed her drops, was disturbed by a visit from Lady Jane, who stood by her dishevelled, flushed, and with that storm-beaten look which weeping leaves behind it. She looked eager, even imploring, so that Lady Alice challenged her with-- "What on earth, Jane, brings you to my bedside at this hour of the night?" "I've come to tell you, Lady Alice, that I believe I was wrong the other night to speak to you as I did." "I thought, Jane," replied the old lady with dignity, "you would come to view your conduct in that light." "I thought you were right all the time; that is, I thought you meant kindly. I wished to tell you so," said Lady Jane. "I am glad, Jane, you can now speak with temper." "And I think you are the only person alive, except poor Lennox, who really cares for me." "I knew, Jane, that reflection and conscience would bring you to this form of mind," said Lady Alice. "And I think, when I come to say all this to you, you ought not to receive me so." "I meant to receive you kindly, Jane; one can't always in a moment forget the pain and humiliation which such scenes produce. It will help me, however, your expressing your regret as you do." "Well, I believe I am a fool--I believe I deserve this kind of treatment for lowering myself as I have done. The idea of my coming in here, half dressed, to say all this, and being received in this--in this indescribable way!" "If you don't feel it, Jane, I'm sorry you should have expressed any sorrow for your misconduct," replied Lady Alice, loftily. "Sorrow, madam! I never said a word about sorrow. I said I thought you cared for me, and I don't think so now. I am sure you don't, and I care just as little for you, not a pin, madam, with your ridiculous airs." "Very good, dear--then I suppose you are quite satisfied with your former conduct?" "Perfectly--of _course_ I am, and if I had had a notion what kind of person you are I should not have come near you, I promise you." Lady Alice smiled a patient smile, which somehow rather provoked the indignant penitent. "I'd as soon have put my hand in the fire, madam. I've borne too much from you--a great deal too much; it is you who should have come to me, madam, and I don't care a farthing about you." "And I'm still under sentence, I presume, when General Lennox, returns with his horsewhip," suggested Lady Alice, meekly. "It would do you nothing but good." "You are excessively _impertinent_," said Lady Alice, a little losing her self-command. "So are you, madam." "And I desire you'll leave my room," pursued Lady Alice. "And don't you address me while we remain in this house," exclaimed Lady Jane, with flaming cheeks. "Quit the room!" cried Lady Alice, sitting up with preternatural rigidity. "Open the door!" exclaimed Lady Jane, fiercely, to the scared maid, "and carry this candle."