At length she drew herself from her sister's clasp, and walked steadily up to Mainwaring.

She surveyed him with a calm and cruel gaze, as if she enjoyed his shame and terror.

Before, however, she spoke, Mrs.Fielden, who had watched, as one spellbound, Lucretia's movements, and, without hearing what had passed, had the full foreboding of what would ensue, but had not stirred till Lucretia herself terminated the suspense and broke the charm of her awe,--before she spoke, Mrs.Fielden rushed in, and giving vent to her agitation in loud sobs, as she threw her arms round Susan, who was still kneeling on the floor, brought something of grotesque to the more tragic and fearful character of the scene.
"My uncle was right; there is neither courage nor honour in the low-born! He, the schemer, too, is right.

All hollow,--all false!" Thus said Lucretia, with a strange sort of musing accent, at first scornful, at last only quietly abstracted.

"Rise, sir," she then added, with her most imperious tone; "do you not hear your Susan weep?
Do you fear in my presence to console her?
Coward to her, as forsworn to me! Go, sir, you are free!" "Hear me," faltered Mainwaring, attempting to seize her hand; "I do not ask you to forgive; but--" "Forgive, sir!" interrupted Lucretia, rearing her head, and with a look of freezing and unspeakable majesty.