“I need,” Saton remarked quietly, “what I suppose Mr. Rochester would call a confederate. I can only see one whom I think would be temperamently suitable. Will you help me?” he asked, turning suddenly toward Pauline.
“No!” Rochester answered sternly. “Lady Marrabel will have nothing to do with your performance.”
Rochester bit his lip the moment he had spoken. He felt that he had made a mistake. One or two of the guests looked at him curiously. The Duchess was literally open-mouthed. Saton was smiling in a peculiar manner.
“In that case,” he remarked quietly, “if Mr. Rochester has spoken with authority, I fear that I can do nothing.”
The Duchess was very nearly angry.
“Don’t be such an idiot, Henry!” she said. “Of course Pauline will help. What is it you want her to do, Mr. Saton?”
“Nothing at all,” he answered, “except to sit in a corner of the room, as far from me as possible, and answer the questions which I shall ask her, if she be able. You will do that?” turning suddenly towards her.
“Of course she will!” the Duchess declared. “Be quiet, Henry. You are a stupid, prejudiced person, and I won’t have you interfere.”
Pauline rose to her feet.
“I am afraid,” she said, “that I can scarcely be of much use, but of course I don’t mind trying.”