"Because you're ashamed. I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't a trull's bully from Lewknor's Lane or Whetstone Park. The rascals pass themselves off as sparks of fashion at ridottos, masquerades and what not and live by robbery and blood money. I warrant I'll soon run your fine gentleman to earth. He talks about telling his father. Pooh! That was but to bait the trap and you walked into it nicely." Her mother's insinuations maddened poor Lavinia. The mention of Lewknor's Lane and Whetstone Park, two of the most infamous places in London, was amply sufficient to break her spirit, which indeed was Mrs. Fenton's intention. The worst of it was that after what had happened she had in her secret heart come round to the same opinion so far as the baiting of the trap was concerned. She was far too cast down to make any reply and wept copiously, purely through injured pride and humiliation. "You must leave me to deal with this business, child," said Mrs. Fenton loftily. "If the young man really belongs to the quality and what he writes about his father is true, then his father must be made to pay for the injury his son's done you. I suppose he's told you who his father is and where he lives, and _I_ want to know too. If I'm to get you out of the mess you're in you must help me." "I won't," gasped Lavinia between her sobs. "I don't want to hear anything more about him or his father either. I wish to forget both of them." "Humph! That won't be so easy as you'll find, you stubborn little fool. Keep your mouth shut if you like. I'll ferret out the truth without you." And stuffing the letter into her capacious pocket, Mrs. Fenton stalked out of the room and directly she was outside she turned the key in the lock. Lavinia, too exhausted in body and too depressed in mind to think, sobbed herself to sleep. CHAPTER VII "I WISH I WERE A RICH LADY FOR YOUR SAKE" Lavina awoke to find Hannah in the room. The maid had brought in a cup of chocolate and something to eat. "I'm a dreadful sight, Hannah," said she dolefully. "You'll be better when you've had a wash and done your hair. Your cloak's spoilt. What a pity! Take it off and let me brush away the mud and see if I can smooth out the creases." Lavinia stretched herself, yawned and slowly pulled herself up, sitting on the side of the bed for a minute or two before she commenced her toilette. Hannah helped her to dress to the accompaniment of a running commentary on the state of her clothing. "What am I to do about shoes?" asked Lavinia, when this part of her wearing apparel was reached. "You won't be wanting any for a time I'm thinking, Miss Lavvy." "Not wanting any shoes? Whatever do you mean?" "Your mother means to lock you in this room for a while. She was for keeping you for a day or two on bread and water, but I talked her out of it." Lavinia started in dismay. Then she burst out:-- "I won't endure such treatment. I won't, Hannah! You'll help me to run away, won't you?"