down my
throat;--that man, your husband, because he could not forgive my choosing
Chillon, schemed for Chillon's ruin. I could not believe it until I saw
in the glass this disfigured wretch he has made of me. Livia serves him,
she hates him for the tyrant he is; she has opened my eyes. And not for
himself, no, for his revenge on me, for my name to be as my face is. He
tossed me to his dogs; fair game for them! You do well, Janey; he is
capable of any villany. And has been calling at Livia's door twice a day,
inquiring anxiously; begs the first appointment possible. He has no
shame; he is accustomed to buy men and women; he thinks his money will
buy my pardon, give my face a new skin, perhaps. A woman swears to you,
Janey, by all she holds holy on earth, it is not the loss of her
beauty--there will be a wrinkled patch on the cheek for life, the surgeon
says; I am to bear a brown spot, like a bruised peach they sell at the
fruit-shops cheap. Chillon's Riette! I think of that, the miserable wife
I am for him without the beauty he loved so! I think of myself as guilty,
a really guilty woman, when I compare my loss with my husband's.'

'Your accident, dearest Riette--how it happened?' Carinthia said,
enfolding her.

'Because, Janey, what have I ever been to Chillon but the good-looking
thing he was proud of? It's gone. Oh, the accident. Brailstone had pushed
little Corby away; he held my hand, kept imploring, he wanted the usual
two minutes, and all to warn me against--I've told you; and he saw Lord
Fleetwood coming. I got my hand free, and stepped back, my head spinning;
and I fell. That I recollect, and a sight of flames, like the end of the
world. I fell on one of the oil-lamps bordering the grass; my veil
lighted; I had fainted; those two men saw nothing but one another; and
little Sir Meeson was no help; young Lord Cressett dashed out the flames.
They brought me to my senses for a second swoon. Livia says I woke
moaning to be taken away from that hated Calesford. It was, oh! never to
see that husband of yours again. Forgive him, if you can. Not I. I carry
the mark of him to my grave. I have called myself "Skin-deep" ever since,
day and night--the name I deserve.'

'We will return to Chillon together, my own,' said Carinthia. 'It may not
be so bad.' And in the hope that her lovely sister exaggerated a
defacement leaving not much worse than a small scar, her heart threw off
its load of the recent perplexities, daylight