For one moment her face grew white as with the ghastly pallor of death, her eyes grew dim, her arms fell nervously by her side. So she stood for a few minutes; then she said, in a low, hoarse voice:
"Do not ring the bell; do not arouse them; I will talk to you now. Come this way."
Side by side they walked down the broad path together; in the bewilderment of her thoughts she had but one idea—it was to keep him away from the library window.
"Now," she said, breathlessly, "let us talk here."
The moon was bright—so pitifully bright, it traced their shadows along the white stone; it seemed to rejoice in the warm night.
"What have you to say?" he asked, curtly. "I can tell you why I am here. I have come for your answer ten days before the time, because I have heard that you are going to play me false: I am here to tell Lord Linleigh by what right I claim you as my wife; I am here to tell all whom it may concern what you have been to me."
Suddenly she remembered that the room Earle occupied looked over the terrace. What if, tempted by the beauty of the night, he should come to the window, and look out? What if the earl should hear voices or see shadows? Oh, what was she to do?
Her alarm heightened by seeing a light at one of the windows opposite: whether it was one of the servants or not, she could not tell; but it alarmed her.
All at once she remembered that she had free access to the house, she had but to go back to her rooms by the spiral staircase. Again she laid her hand on Lord Vivianne's arm.
"I dare not remain here," she said. "Do you see that light? We shall be seen."