An inveterately vindictive woman, she had resolved to discover whatever compromising elements might exist in the governess's secret, and to make them public property (from a paramount sense of duty, of course) among her own circle of friends.

But to do this--with Blanche acting (as might certainly be anticipated) in direct opposition to her, and openly espousing Miss Silvester's interests--was manifestly impossible.
The first thing to be done--and that instantly--was to inform Blanche that she was discovered, and to forbid her to stir in the matter.
Lady Lundie rang the bell twice--thus intimating, according to the laws of the household, that she required the attendance of her own maid.
She then turned to the cook--still waiting her pleasure, with stony composure, slate in hand.
"You have done wrong," said her ladyship, severely.

"I am your mistress.
You are bound to answer your mistress--" Hester Dethridge bowed her head, in icy acknowledgment of the principle laid down--so far.
The bow was an interruption.

Lady Lundie resented it.
"But Miss Blanche is _not_ your mistress," she went on, sternly.

"You are very much to blame for answering Miss Blanche's inquiries about Miss Silvester." Hester Dethridge, perfectly unmoved, wrote her justification on her slate, in two stiff sentences: "I had no orders _not_ to answer.