Lady Ann found she had a new sort of creature to deal with. She had wanted to establish a protective claim on the girl—to have a secret with, and so a hold upon her. But she was discovering this was not a girl to be held quite so easily.

“Calm yourself, Miss Wylder. You will scarcely do yourself justice in English society if you give way to such temper. If you have no secrets, pray, explain the thing to me.”

“Mr. Tuke told me he had found a young woman almost dead with hunger and cold by the wayside, and carried her to a cottage. I came to you, as you well remember, and asked for a little brandy. Then I went to the larder and got some soup. She would probably 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, although I confess I would have sent a more suitable person.”

“I thought myself the most suitable person in the house.”

“Why?”

“Because I was called upon to do it, and I had to go, and because I knew I should be kinder to her than anyone you could send.”

“You may be far too kind to such people.”

“You couldn’t be too kind to this girl.”

“It’s just as I feared. She has quite taken you in. 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 why were you so long? As you 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 cart and took her away.”

“Was there no woman at the cottage?”

“Yes, but worn out with work and children.”

“Well, thank you for telling me, Barbara. I was certain it was some mission of mercy that led you out at such an hour. A girl in your position must be careful of what people think, you know.”

“Duty to your neighbour is more important than one’s reputation,” replied Barbara.

“There is nothing to be annoyed at, Barbara. I am quite pleased with what you have told me. I say only it was unwise of you not to let me know.”

“It may not have been wise for my own sake, but it was for the woman’s.”