"I am sorry that I can't stay any longer," the Countess said; "I am bound to be in London this evening."
"Then I will come with you," Vera said promptly.
"No," Silva burst out sternly. "The thing is impossible. For the present you stay where you are. In a day or two we will make other arrangements with the servants, and then you can have the freedom of the house. The Countess will tell you that I am right."
"I am afraid so," the Countess said, "unless you will give me your word that you will not communicate with Lord Ravenspur. You must be dead as far as he and his household are concerned."
[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
"I cannot do it," Vera said quietly. "Forgive me if my words hurt you, but so far I have no evidence to prove that you are anything more than a mere impostor. You claim to be my mother, and perhaps you are. But till tonight I had no mother. For eighteen years Lord Ravenspur has been more than a father to me. If you can give me any satisfactory explanation of this plot against my safety----"
"Oh, I can," the Countess cried. "Two years ago--"
"Be silent!" Silva cried furiously. "I beg your pardon, madam, but I am forgetting myself. I will venture to remind you that your train will not wait."
"That is quite sufficient," Vera said, with dignity. "I will return to my room again. Perhaps the next time I see you, you will have more time for an explanation."