Louisiana removed her hat and cloak and gave them to Mrs. Nance. She did it rather slowly, and having done it, crossed the hall to the sitting-room door, opened it and went in.
There was no light in the room but the light of the wood fire, but that was very bright. It was so bright that she had not taken two steps into the room before she saw clearly the face of the man who waited for her.
It was Laurence Ferrol.
She stopped short and her hands fell at her sides. Her heart beat so fast that she could not speak.
His heart beat fast, too, and it beat faster still when he noted her black dress and saw how pale and slight she looked in it. He advanced towards her and taking her hand in both his, led her to a chair.
"I have startled you too much," he said. "Don't make me feel that I was wrong to come. Don't be angry with me."
She let him seat her in the chair and then he stood before her and waited for her to speak.
"It was rather—sudden," she said, "but I am not—angry."
There was a silence of a few seconds, because he was so moved by the new look her face wore that he could not easily command his voice and words.
"Have you been ill?" he asked gently, at last.