“Come with me,” she had said, “and I will tell you my story. Shall you hate me when you know that I am Lady Pelham?”
If the sky had fallen at his feet he could not have been more surprised than when she said those words. This beautiful, winsome creature, whose every frank mood was a fresh charm. Lady Pelham, the most noted name a short time since in all England. They had entered the house together, and she had gone at once to Miss Hanson.
“I want you,” she said, laying her hand on the little spinster’s arm. “I want you to come and sit with me, while I tell Mr. Eyrle my story.”
The kindly eyes filled at once with tears.
“Oh, my dear, are you going to tell him? I am so glad, so pleased.”
“I must tell him in self-defense, for I find Sir Alfred’s spies are here.”
Miss Hanson clasped her hands with a little gesture of dismay.
“He might have left you in peace. He can have nothing to complain of. No life could be more quiet.”
“No,” she replied, with a little smile, “that is true. But do you not understand? He has not ruined me in the eyes of the whole world. There are many who believe in my innocence, as there are thousands who believe in my guilt. If anything else could be proved against me, his case would be clear. I had forgotten that, and have allowed Mr. Eyrle to come here. My penance must be telling him the history I fain would have kept from him. Come with me, so if prying eyes watch our last interview there may be nothing to relate.”
“It shall not be our last interview,” said Kenelm, hotly.