Lady Ann was not ready with her answer. She wanted to establish a protective claim on the girl--to have a secret with, and so a hold upon her. “If the servants do not know,” Barbara went on, “would you mind saying how your ladyship came to know? Have the servants up, and I will tell the whole thing before them all--and prove what I say too.” “Calm yourself, Miss Wylder. You will scarcely do yourself justice in English society, if you give way to such temper. As you wish the whole house to know what you were about, pray begin with me, and explain the thing to me.” “Mr. Tuke told me he had found a young woman almost dead with hunger and cold by the way-side, and carried her to a cottage. I came to you, as you well remember, and begged a little brandy. Then I went to the larder, and got some soup. She would certainly have been dead before the morning, if we had not taken them to her.” “Why did you not tell me what you wanted the brandy for?” “Because you would have tried to prevent me from going.” “Of course I should have had the poor creature attended to!--I confess I should have sent a more suitable person.” “I thought myself the most suitable person in the house.” “Why?” “Because the thing came to me to get done, and I had to go; and because I knew I should be kinder to her than any one you could send. I know too well what servants are, to trust them with the poor!” “You may be far too kind to such people!” “Yes, if one hasn't common sense. But this girl you couldn't be too kind to.” “It is just as I feared: she has taken you in quite! Those tramps are all the same!” “The same as other people--yes; that is, as different from each other as your ladyship and I.” Lady Ann found Barbara too much for her, and changed her attack. “But how came you to be so long? As you have just said, Burrow-lane can't be more than a mile and a half from here!” “We could not leave her at the cottage; it was not a fit place for her. Mr. Tuke had to go to his grandfather's--four miles--and I had to stay with her till he came back. Old Simon came himself in his spring-cart, and took her away.” “Was there no woman at the cottage?” “Yes, but worn out with work and children. Her night's rest was of more consequence to her than ten nights' waking would be to me.” “Thank you, Barbara! I was certain I should not prove mistaken in you! But I hope such a necessity will not often occur.” “I hope not; but when it does, I hope I may be at hand.” “I was certain it was some mission of mercy that had led you into the danger. A girl in your position must beware of being peculiar, even in goodness. There are more important things in the world than a little suffering!” “Yes; your duty to your neighbour is more important.” “Not than your duty to yourself, Barbara!” said lady Ann, in such a gently severe tone of righteous reproof, that Barbara's furnace of a heart made the little pot that held her temper nearly boil over.