Eleanor drew a little nearer.
'It is not you--but fate.

You have taken from me--or you are about to take from me--the last thing left to me on this earth! I have had one chance of happiness, and only one, in all my life, till now.

My boy is dead--he has been dead eight years.

And at last I had found another chance--and after seven weeks, you--you--are dashing it from me!' Lucy drew back from the table, like one that shrinks from an enemy.
'Mrs.Burgoyne!' 'You don't know it!' said Eleanor calmly.

'Oh! I understand that.