"Do you not know," he articulated beneath his breath, "or are you deceiving me? These are Lord Randolph Gray's private apartments."
"His!" she whispered, dropping on a seat; "I thought they were yours." Poor girl! her limbs tottered beneath her weight.
"You will drive me mad," he cried, seizing her trembling hands; "tell me, in Heaven's name—tell me how you came here, and why?"
"I came," she ejaculated half in surprise and half in fear, "because you sent for me; but why am I in these rooms, why not in yours?" She did not yet understand his suspicions; her fears arose from his strange excitement; she began to fear for his reason, thinking that he had sent for her.
"Woman!" he cried in agony, wringing her cold hands, "I never called you hither, and this you must know." She could not speak, but sat silently staring at him, her eyes distended with terror. "Speak—speak truth, if you dare—and tell me why you are here? and how? for I am nearly mad; do you not see it, woman? I conjure you, speak."
"Speak you!" she whispered, "and tell me your hidden meaning; you affright me with these spirit thoughts. Embody them, Miles; for I dare not believe my heart's fear."
"Speak them!" he exclaimed, "do they need speech? No! your guilty soul has uttered them to your terror-stricken frame; you have done, and now you shudder at your own act. Woman, I am doubly deceived, deceived when this day I took you to my loving heart, deceived when I was lured from my home that you might come hither in secret, but I will have revenge, where revenge may be taken." And casting her hands from him, which he had held grasped in his, he sprung towards the door, but like lightning she was before him, and placing her slight form, now nerved by resolution against it, she said, "Miles, I bore much this day patiently, for I had been guilty of concealment, though done for a worthy purpose; but now, that my soul is clear of any wilful sin against you, in the sight of Heaven, I demand that you should hear me."
"Speak," he said coldly folding his arms, "my revenge can wait."
"When," she articulated faintly, for the nerve of a moment had passed away—"when you left me to-day, an hour elapsed in thoughts of you, all you Miles, and joy—that deep joy which reconciliation brings. I was aroused from this dream of peace and rest, after my recent sorrow, by a messenger who came, he said, with a letter from you, which you had given him on starting, and this letter bade me at once come to Uplands to rejoin you, placing myself under the care of this messenger; you had a project in view for our mutual happiness, and my presence was necessary; so, dear Miles, I did not delay a moment,"—here the long restrained tears overflowed her eyes at the calling of that gentle word on her lip—"but fearlessly quitted home, knowing your judgment must be best in all things for my benefit, I could not err in following your guidance," her full eye looked all its love on him as she spoke.
"The letter," he said hoarsely, holding out a hand; he durst not take her, as he longed to do, to his heart, without this proof.