The earl was embarrassed. Despite his crime, he still had breeding left him, and he felt compelled to make his presence known. He knocked again.
"Don't interrupt me, Phelim," she said; "this is my swan-song; listen;" and she began to sing. She sang bravely, at first, with her head held high, and then, suddenly, her voice began to falter.
"Ah, Phelim, dear," she cried, "I've lost my love! I've lost my love!" and she put her hands to her face and fell to sobbing.
"Nora!" said the earl. It was the first word he had spoken, and she raised her head, startled.
"Here is the cup, Nora," he said.
She sprang to her feet and turned to him, tears on her cheeks, but a light in her eyes such as he had never seen.
"Oh, my love," she cried, "I should have known you'd bring it."
"Yes," he said, "you should have known."
She stood, blushing, radiant, eager, waiting.
He stood in the doorway, pale, quiet, his arms at his side, the cup in his hand.