"Countess," said the Doctor at last, turning towards her with a very grave look in his face, "I have something to tell you, and I do not know how to say it." He paused, and Margaret looked at the sea, without noticing him, for she half fancied he was on the point of repeating his former indiscretion and saying he loved her. Would it be an indiscretion now? She wondered what she should say, what she would say, if he did—venture. Would she say "it was not right" of him now? In a moment Claudius had resolved to plunge boldly at the truth.
"I am obliged to go away very suddenly," he said; and his voice trembled violently.
Margaret's face lost colour in answer, and she resisted an impulse to turn and meet his eyes. She would have liked to, but she felt his look on her, and she feared lest, looking once, she should look too long.
"Must you go away?" she asked with a good deal of self-possession.
"Yes, I fear I must. I know I must, if I mean to remain here afterwards. I would rather go at once and be done with it." He still spoke uncertainly, as if struggling with some violent hoarseness in his throat.
"Tell me why you must go," she said imperiously. Claudius hesitated a moment.
"I will tell you one of the principal reasons of my going," he said. "You know I came here to take possession of my fortune, and I very naturally relied upon doing so. Obviously, if I do not obtain it I cannot continue to live in the way I am now doing, on the slender resources which have been enough for me until now."
"Et puis?" said the Countess, raising her eyebrows a little.
"Et puis," continued the Doctor, "these legal gentlemen find difficulty in persuading themselves that I am myself—that I am really the nephew of Gustavus Lindstrand, deceased."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Margaret. "And so to please them you are going away. And who will get your money, pray?"