Then, perceiving the presence of John, he said:
"Lead the way to my room, sirrah, and then go and order my fellow to bring up my portmanteau."
John devoutly pulled his forelocks as he bowed low and then went on, followed by Colonel Le Noir.
Marah Rocke meanwhile had gained the privacy of her own chamber, where all her firmness deserted her.
Throwing herself into a chair, she clasped her hands and sat with blanched face and staring eyes, like a marble statue of despair.
"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do while this miscreant remains here?—this villain whose very presence desecrates the roof and dishonors me? I would instantly leave the house but that I must not abandon poor Clara.
"I cannot claim the protection of Traverse, for I would not provoke him to wrath or run him into danger; nor, indeed, would I even permit my son to dream such a thing possible as that his mother could receive insult!
"Nor can I warn Clara of the unprincipled character of her guardian, for if she knew him as he is she would surely treat him in such a way as to get his enmity—his dangerous, fatal enmity!—doubly fatal since her person and property are legally at his disposal. Oh, my dove! my dove! that you should be in the power of this vulture! What shall I do, oh, heaven?"
Marah dropped on her knees and finished her soliloquy with prayer. Then, feeling composed and strengthened, she went to Clara's room.
She found the poor girl lying awake and quietly weeping.