"Yes, it is I," she said, in a low voice, in which agony and pride struggled for the mastery.
"Where—where did you come from? How long——."
"Yes," she said, answering his unfinished question, "I have been listening. They told me at home that you had gone out to look for me, and I followed you. I heard your voice as I was passing, and I came into the garden. I have been standing by the window and——. Every word!" fell from her white lips.
"You—you should not have listened," he said "Come away," and he put out his hand as if to draw her outside; but she did not move.
"I am going presently," she said, speaking as if with an effort. "I—I want to say something. Yorke——." She seemed as if she were about to break down, but mastered her emotion and came a step or two farther into the room. "Yorke, you have not heard all yet, not the whole truth. He," she glanced at Ralph Duncombe, "could not tell you, but I will."
A presentiment of what was coming fell on Yorke and he tried to stop her.
"No!" he said. "Say no more, Eleanor, but come home with me."
"I cannot," she said. "I must speak. Miss Lisle——." She drew nearer to Leslie, who had risen and stood against the window, her hands clasped, her head turned away. "Miss Lisle, you have been cruelly wronged. And by me!"
Leslie started and looked up quickly. Lady Eleanor gazed at her, seeing her face distinctly for the first time, and so the two stood and looked at each other—these two beautiful women who were fated to love the same man!
"It was I who—who separated you from Lord Auchester."