Desperate Remedies

Cytherea caught at the chance afforded her of not betraying herself. 'Yes, I know her,' she said.
'Well,' said Miss Hinton, 'I am really vexed if my speaking so lightly of any friend of yours has hurt your feelings, but—'
'O, never mind,' Cytherea returned; 'it doesn't matter, Miss Hinton. I think I must leave you now. I have to call at other places. Yes—I must go.'

She didn't! and it wasn't shallowness!' Cytherea burst out, with brimming eyes. ''Twas deep deceit on one side, and entire confidence on the other—yes, it was!' The pent-up emotion had swollen and swollen inside the young thing till the dam could no longer embay it. The instant the words were out she would have given worlds to have been able to recall them.
'Do you know her—or him?' said Miss Hinton, starting with suspicion at the warmth shown.

'O no, nobody. But does he live in this parish?'
'No.'
Nothing proved yet.
'What's his name?' said Cytherea flatly. Her breath and heart had begun their old tricks, and came and went hotly. Miss Hinton could not see her face.
'What do you think?' said Miss Hinton.
'George?' said Cytherea, with deceitful agony.
'No,' said Adelaide. 'But now, you shall see him first; come here;' and she led the way upstairs into her bedroom. There, standing on the dressing table in a little frame, was the unconscious portrait of Edward Springrove.
'There he is,' Miss Hinton said, and a silence ensued.
'Are you very fond of him?' continued the miserable Cytherea at length.