"And since one fine woman is shut up for life in that prison, you think it a shame that another one should remain within its walls?"
I assented warmly.
"Now, then," remarked Miss Laniston, rising, "it is absolutely necessary for me to go to the Frenchwoman, who, I know, is fuming for me, and whose time is very precious. I shall be with you again in about twenty minutes, and during that time I wish you would make up your mind with whom you are in love,—Mother Anastasia or Sylvia Raynor. When that point is settled, we will see what can be done."
It was a man of a bewildered mind who was left alone in that drawing-room. I did not understand what had been said to me, but now that ideas of this kind had been put into words, there seemed to be a certain familiarity about them. How dared she speak to me in that way? What ground had she for such words?
And yet—Sylvia was shut up for life in the House of Martha. I could not gainsay that.
I could not put my thoughts into form, and with my mind in chaos I strode up and down the room until Miss Laniston returned.
"What an uneasy person you are!" she said. "Have you settled that little point?"
"Settled it! There is nothing to settle."
She laughed. "I am not so sure about that. I thought I saw a change in the wind when you were here last, and it is natural enough that it should change. What is the good of its blowing steadfastly from the north, when the north is nothing but ice?"
"You have no right to talk in that way!" I exclaimed angrily. "I utterly repudiate your supposition."