“Tell whom?” said she, pretending not to understand.
“Lady Ma——”
He checked himself at once, and was silent.
“Do you mean Mrs. Dale?” said Mabin.
“Yes, I mean Mrs. Dale,” replied he impatiently.
“I didn’t tell her anything,” said Mabin. “I didn’t dare. And she thought she dreamt she saw you the night before; but I know it must have been you she saw.”
“She saw me!” cried Mr. Banks, with a sudden eagerness in his voice, a yearning in his eyes, which kept Mabin dumb. Noticing at once the effect his change of manner had on his listener, he checked himself again, and turned his head away.
Still Mabin remained silent. In truth she was beginning to feel alarmed by those glimpses into a story of passion and of sorrow which were being flashed before her innocent young eyes. A blush rose in her cheeks; she got up from her chair, and made a step toward the door, feeling for the first time what a daring thing she had done in making this visit.
“I—I think so. I must suppose so,” said she quickly. “And that was why she changed her room.”
A look of deepest pain crossed the face of Mr. Banks. His brows contracted, his lips quivered. Mabin, with the righteous indignation of the very young against sins they cannot understand, felt that every blow she struck, cruel though it might be, helped to remove a peril from the path of her friend. With glowing cheeks and downcast eyes she added: