“Sin! Why a sin?”
“Because Tudor Hereward’s wife still lives,” replied Lilith, in a voice of such unnatural, mechanical calmness that it did not seem to come from living lips.
“Tudor Hereward’s wife still lives?” demanded the baroness, in slow, questioning, incredulous tones. “What can you know about it? Her dead body was found—was identified; what, then, do you mean by saying that she still lives? And what can you know about it, in any case?”
“Madame, I do not dispute that some woman’s dead body was found near her dwelling. I know not whose it was; but I do know that it was not Tudor Hereward’s wife’s.”
“How dare you say so! How can you know anything about the matter?” demanded the baroness, almost indignantly.
“Because, madame—oh, forgive me—because—I—I am Mr. Hereward’s—most unhappy wife!” answered Lilith, dropping her head in her hands with a low, heart-breaking moan.
There was a dead silence between the two for a few minutes.
The baroness was the first to speak.
“You? You the wife of Tudor Hereward? Impossible!” she muttered, glaring down on the little bowed head.
Lilith’s bosom heaved with a silent sob; but she did not reply.