Her cheeks flushed angrily. She threw open the door of her sitting-room. Some one sitting stiffly on the edge of a chair rose as she entered. To her amazement Marcia perceived a slender woman--a lady--a complete stranger to her, standing in her own private sitting-room, awaiting her arrival. A woman in rather slipshod artistic dress, with hands clasped theatrically, and tears on her cheeks. "Who are you?" said Marcia, drawing back. Book II MARCIA "To make you me how much so e'er I try, You will be always you, and I be I." CHAPTER IX "Miss Coryston, I have done a dreadful thing," said a trembling voice. "I--I have deceived your servants--told them lies--that I might get to see you. But I implore you, let me speak to you!--don't send me away!" Marcia Coryston looked in amazement at the shrinking, childish creature, standing suppliant before her, and repeated: "I have not an idea who you are. Please tell me your name." "My name--is Alice Betts," said the other, after a momentary hesitation. "Oh, perhaps you don't know anything about me. But yet--I think you must; because--because there has been so much talk!" "Mrs. Betts?" said Marcia, slowly. Her eyes perused the other's face, which reddened deeply under the girl's scrutiny. Marcia, in her pale pink dress and hat, simple, but fresh and perfectly appointed, with her general aspect of young bloom and strength, seemed to take her place naturally against--one might almost say, as an effluence from--the background of bright June foliage, which could be seen through the open windows of the room; while Mrs. Betts, tumbled, powdered, and through all the juvenility of her attire--arms bare to the elbow and throat half uncovered, short skirts and shell necklace,--betraying her thirty-five years, belonged quite plainly to the used, autumnal category of her sex. "Haven't you heard of me?" she resumed, plaintively. "I thought--Lord Coryston--" She paused, her eyes cast down. "Oh yes," said Marcia, mechanically. "You have seen my brother? Please sit down." Mrs. Betts sat down, with a long sigh, still not venturing to look up. Instead she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes; beginning to speak in a broken, sobbing voice. "If you can't help us, Miss Coryston, I--I don't know what we shall do--my poor husband and I. We heard last night--that at the chapel service--oh! my husband used to read the lessons there for years and years, and now he never goes:--but he heard from one of his men, who was there, about your engagement to Mr. Newbury--and how Mr. Perry gave it out. I am so _ashamed_, Miss Coryston, to be speaking of your private affairs!--I don't know how to excuse myself--" She looked up humbly. She had large blue eyes in a round fair-complexioned face, and the lids fluttered as though just keeping back the tears. "Please go on," said Marcia, coldly, quivering with excitement and annoyance. But she had been bred to self-control, and she betrayed nothing.