How long she sat there she could not tell. Now she did not cry, and thought had left her; yet, in some dim way, she had made her resolution, and news of it was carried to her mind.
She combed out her hair steadily and plaited it; she put on her lavender dressing-gown, and the shoes that matched it, and she bathed her face. It was white, and seemed to have fallen thinner in that hour, for she had touched a deeper tragedy than her mother's death. She must be honest, but such an honesty tore the heart from her.
She unlocked the little box where she kept no other thing than Alexander's letter. She took it out and held it fast between her palms, but she did not read it. She raised the upper hand, and laid her cheek in its place.
"I ought not to have kept you," she said, and gave a little moan. "But it's not because you're a man, Alexander; it's because you are a spirit. You and Father are the only ones I've known. Must I resign you to keep the other things? You see, Alexander, I do want the other things—a home, and love, and—other things. But oh, there's no need to tell you, for you know—you know."
She opened her door softly. The landing lights were out, no light came from the hall, but as she followed the staircase curve she saw a golden streak under the door of the smoking-room. A little nearer, and she smelt tobacco. She entered, and saw Morton deep in a leather-covered chair. He sprang to his feet.
She appeared to him like a sprite. She was pale and small, she seemed to be overweighted by her hair, and the movements of her dressing-gown revealed white ankles and white arms. The tender little hollow of her neck was plain to him, and though he had seen it that very night it had seemed a more modest thing than this between the close folds of her gown.
She shut the door. "Basil. I want to talk to you."
"Not now, dear." He put the cigar on the mantelpiece, and held his hands behind his back. "You must go to bed now. It's after twelve. Haven't you been to sleep?"
"No; I've been thinking." She looked at him with wide, strained eyes. He had never seen her so simple and so frail. "There's something I must tell you."
"Is it so very important?"