"Oh! don't do that," she said; "it is you I want to hear of." Madame di Forno-Populo had an object in every word she was saying, and knew exactly how much she meant to tell and how much to conceal. It was indeed a purely artificial appeal that she was making to her companion's feelings; and yet, when she looked upon the simple sympathy and generous interest in Lucy's face, her heart was touched. "How good you are," she said; "how generous! though I have come to you against your will, and am staying--when I am not wanted." "Oh! do not say so," cried Lucy with eagerness; "do not think so--indeed, it was not against my will. I was glad, as glad as I could be, to receive my husband's friend." "Few women are so," said the Contessa gravely. "I knew it when I came. Few, very few, care for their husband's friend--especially when she is a woman----" Lucy fixed her eyes upon her with earnest attention. Her look was not suspicious, yet there was investigation in it. "I do not think I am like that," she said simply. "No, you are not like that," said the Contessa. "You are the soul of candour and sweetness; but I have vexed you. Ah, my Lucy, I have vexed you. I know it--innocently, my love--but still I have done it. That is one of the curses of poverty. Now look," she said, after a momentary pause, "how truth brings truth! I did not intend to say this when I began" (and this was perfectly true), "but now I must open my heart to you. I came without caring much what you would think, meaning no harm--Oh, trust me, meaning no harm! but since I have come all the advantages of being here have appeared to me so strongly that I have set my heart upon remaining, though I knew it was disagreeable to you." "Indeed:" cried Lucy, divided between sincerity and kindness: "if it was ever so for a moment, it was only because I did not understand." "My sweetest child! this I tell you is one of the curses of poverty. I knew it was disagreeable to you; but because of the great advantage of being in your house, not only for me, but for Bice, for whom I have sworn to do my best--Lucy, pardon me--I could not make up my mind to go away. Listen! I said to myself, I am poor, I cannot give her all the advantages; and they are rich; it is nothing to them--I will stay, I will continue, though they do not want me, not for my sake, for the sake of Bice. They will not be sorry afterwards to have made the fortune of Bice. Listen, dear one; hear me out. I had the intention of forcing myself upon you--oh no! the words are not too strong--in London, always for Bice's sake, for she has no one but me; and if her career is stopped---- I am not a woman," said the Contessa, with dignity, "who am used to find myself _de trop_. I have been in my life courted, I may say it, rather than disagreeable; yet this I was willing to bear--and impose myself upon you for Bice's sake----"