"You are thinking unkindly of me just now," continued Clara softly; "but I felt it was my duty to tell you the worst at once. It's no good living in a delusion! I'm very, very sorry for you, Thelma!"
Thelma remained perfectly silent. Lady Winsleigh moved towards the door, and as she opened it looked back at her. The girl might have been a lifeless figure for any movement that could be perceived about her. Her face was white as marble--her eyes were fixed on the sparkling fire--her very hands looked stiff and pallid as wax, as they lay clasped in her lap--the letter--the cruel letter,--had fallen at her feet. She seemed as one in a trance of misery--and so Lady Winsleigh left her.