It was the name Mr. Ferris had come there to hear, yet it gave him a slight shock when it fell from her lips—perhaps because his mind was still running upon her supposed relations with Mr. Orcutt. But he did not show his feelings, however, and calmly asked:
"And was Mr. Mansell in this town the day before the assault upon his aunt?"
"He was."
"And you had a conversation with him?"
"I had."
For the first time she flushed; womanly shame had not yet vanished entirely from her stricken breast; but she responded as steadily as before:
"In the woods, sir, back of Mrs. Clemmens' house. There were reasons"—she paused—"there were good reasons, which I do not feel obliged to state, why a meeting in such a place was not discreditable to us."
Mr. Ferris, who had received from other sources a full version of the interview to which she thus alluded, experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling against one he could not but consider as a detected coquette; and, drawing quickly back, made a gesture such as was not often witnessed in those elegant apartments.
"You mean," said he, with a sharp edge to his tone that passed over her dreary soul unheeded, "that you were lovers?"