A Crown of Shame, Volume II by Florence Marryat

Liz Fellows went home that day sadder than she had been before. Her lover's defalcation had been a natural sequence to the misfortune that had overtaken her, compared to this. He had judged her harshly, and without proof, but he at least believed (or she thought he did) that she had been untrue to him, and his anger and contempt were those of a dishonoured man. But Maraquita's conduct admitted of no such palliation. She _knew_ better than any one else, that Liz was innocent of the charge laid against her, and yet she could coolly deny the fact, and appeal to her mother to join her in turning her adopted sister from their doors. She could shield herself behind the humiliation of her friend, -- deny her maternity, and delegate her sacred duties -- her most holy feelings -- to another woman.

‘Feelings! Duties! ' Liz stamped her foot impatiently, as the terms occurred to her mind. Maraquita _had_ no feelings, and recognised no duty. She was lower than the feeble little animals, who would die sooner than desert their young. She had brought a helpless infant -- presumably the infant of her lover -- into the world, and would not even acknowledge it was hers. _Who_ was the father of this child, thought Liz, that he could stand by quietly and see the desertion of his offspring? Had _he_ no natural instincts, any more than the partner of his sin? Would they _both_ leave their infant to the tender mercies of the world, whilst they went their own ways -- one, to be married to the Governor of San Diego -- the other, Heaven best knew where? Well, she had staked her last chance, and lost it. Henri de Courcelles would never now receive the proof of her innocence. He was lost to her for ever, and she must bear the burden of shame laid upon her guiltless head as best she might. As she re-entered the bungalow, a wail from Quita's hapless infant smote her with compassion.