"All men should do so, I presume. I also am punctual. Well sir;—have you anything else to say?"
"Much to say,—to your daughter, Lady Lovel."
"I do not know that you will ever see my daughter again."
"Do you mean to say that she has been taken away from this?" The Countess was silent, but moved away from the spot on which she stood to receive him towards the old desk, which stood open,—with the door of the centre space just ajar. "If it be so, you have deceived me most grossly, Lady Lovel. But it can avail you nothing, for I know that she will be true to me. Do you tell me that she has been removed?"
"I have told you no such thing."
"Bid her come then,—as you promised me."
"I have a word to say to you first. What if she should refuse to come?"
"I do not believe that she will refuse. You yourself heard what she said yesterday. All earth and all heaven should not make me doubt her, and certainly not your word, Lady Lovel. You know how it is, and you know how it must be."
"Yes,—I do; I do; I do." She was facing him with her back to the window, and she put forth her left hand upon the open desk, and thrust it forward as though to open the square door which stood ajar;—but he did not notice her hand; he had his eye fixed upon her, and suspected only deceit,—not violence. "Yes, I know how it must be," she said, while her fingers approached nearer to the little door.
"Then let her come to me."