"You have attended mistresses of other ways than mine," her lady said in
her slow, clear voice, which seemed to cut as knives do. "Some fool and
madman has bribed you to serve him. You cannot serve me also. Come
hither and put this in the fire. If 'twere to be done I would make you
hold it in the live coals with your hand."

The woman came shuddering, looking as if she thought she might be struck
dead. She took the letter and kneeled, ashen pale, to burn it. When
'twas done, her mistress pointed to the door.

"Go and gather your goods and chattels together, and leave within this
hour," she said. "I will be my own tirewoman till I can find one who
comes to me honest."

When she was gone, Anne sat gazing at the ashes on the hearth. She was
pale also.

"Sister," she said, "do you--"

"Yes," answered my lady. "'Tis a man who loved me, a cur and a knave. He
thought for an hour he was cured of his passion. I could have told him
'twould spring up and burn more fierce than ever when he saw another man
possess me. 'Tis so with knaves and curs; and 'tis so with him. He hath
gone mad again."

"Ay, mad!" cried Anne--"mad, and base, and wicked!"

Clorinda gazed at the ashes, her lips curling.

"He was ever base," she said--"as he was at first, so he is now. 'Tis