"Let me stay with you to-night! I can sleep on this couch—on this chair—beside you, if you like," pleaded Nell, confused and frightened, but aching with pity and sympathy. "I know that it is all wrong, that you are mistaken. If I could only convince you! If I could only tell you what I saw in Lord Wolfer's eyes as he looked at you to-night!"
The countess shook her head.
"It is you who are mistaken," she said, "and it is too late. No, you shall not stay. I have done wrong to say so much. Try—try and forget it. But yet—no, don't forget it, Nell. Remember me and my wretchedness, and let it be a warning to you, if ever you are tempted to marry a man who does not love you, whom you do not love. Ah, but you must go, Nell! I am worn out!"
Nell went to her and put her arm round her neck, and drew her face down that she might kiss her, but the countess gently put Nell's arm from her, and drew back from the proffered kiss.
"No; you shall not kiss me!" she said, in a low voice. "You will be glad that you did not—presently! Stay—give me that flower!" she said, holding out her hand, but looking away.
Nell started, and drew the flower from her bosom as if it had been something poisonous, and flung it in the fire.
The countess shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference, and turned to watch the flower withering and consuming in the fire, and Nell, with something like a sob, left her.
What should she do? She understood that her friend stood on the verge of a precipice; but how could she—Nell—with all her desire to save her, drag her back?
As she was going to her room she heard a step in the hall, and, looking over the balustrade, saw the earl pass from the library to the drawing-room. For an instant she was half resolved to go down to him, to—what? How could she tell him? She dared not!
Lord Wolfer wandered into the drawing-room and stood before the fire, looking into it moodily, as he leaned against the great mantelpiece of carved marble.