"Lady Coryston would never look at the likes of me!" cried Mrs. Betts. "No, Miss Coryston! I know it's selfish, perhaps--but it's just because you're so young--and so--so happy--that I came to you. You don't know my story--and I can't tell it you--" The speaker covered her face a moment. "I'm not a good woman, Miss Coryston. I never pretended to be. But I've had an awfully hard time--awfully hard! You see," she went on, hurriedly, as though afraid Marcia would stop her, "you see--I was married when I was only seventeen to an old husband. My mother made me--she was dying--and she wanted to be sure I had a home. And he turned against me after a few months. It was a horrible, horrible business. I couldn't tell you what I suffered--I wouldn't for the world. He shut me up, he half starved me, he struck me, and abused me. Then"--she turned her head away and spoke in a choked, rapid voice--"there was another man--he taught me music, and--I was only a child, Miss Coryston--just eighteen. He made me believe he loved me--and I had never had kind things said to me before. It seemed like heaven--and one day--I went off with him--down to a seaside place, and there we stayed. It was wicked. I suppose I ought to have borne up against my life, but I couldn't--there! I couldn't. And so--then my husband divorced me--and for ten years I lived with my old father. The other man--deserted me. I soon found him out. I don't think he meant to be cruel to me. But his people got hold of him. They wouldn't let him marry me. So there I was left, with--with my child." Mrs. Betts threw a shrinking look at Marcia. The girl flushed suddenly and deeply, but said nothing. Mrs. Betts resumed. "And I just lived on somehow--with my father--who was a hard man. He hated me for what I'd done; he was always nagging and reproving me. But I couldn't earn money and be independent--though I tried once or twice. I'm not strong--and I'm not clever; and there was the child. So he just had to keep me--and it was bitter--for him and for me. Well, then, last August he was dying, and we went to Colwyn Bay for him, and took a little lodging. And one day on the sands I saw--John Betts--after fifteen years. When I was twenty--he wanted to marry me, but we'd never met since. He came up to me--and oh!--I was glad to see him! We walked along the shore, and I told him everything. Well--he was sorry for me!--and father died--and I hadn't a penny. For what father left only just paid his debts. And I had no prospects in the world, and no one to help me or my boy. So, then, Mr. Betts offered to marry me. He knew all about my divorce--he had seen it in the newspapers years ago. I didn't deceive him--not one little bit. But he knew what Lord William would think. Only it didn't seem to matter, really, to any one but him and me. I was free--and I wasn't going to bring any more disgrace on anybody."