In the silence, the two men exchanged a glance as upon some pre-decided arrangement. Then the rector spoke:
“These sad events have necessarily postponed your departure; but, believe me, my dear Maud, you will do well, and it is also David’s opinion, to delay it no longer than this afternoon.”
Lady Lochore clutched the arms of her chair.
“We anticipate some excitement among the villagers,” pursued the parson. “Then there is the ceremony to-morrow. You are unfortunately in no state of health to risk painful emotions. And, in fact, David would not be doing his duty did he not insist upon your being safely out of the way.”
Lady Lochore rose stiffly.
“And Mrs. Marvel?”
The rector fell back a pace; the hissing word had struck him like a stone. But Sir David stepped forward, a light flame mounting to his brow.
“Does David consider it his duty to have Mistress Marvel also removed from this dangerous house?” she inquired, and her voice broke on a shrill laugh.
“Maud,” said her brother, almost under his breath, “have a care!”
But Lady Lochore had let herself go; the serpents were hissing, ready to strike. Glib words of venom fell from her lips: