With a bow and a look past his interlocutor, he turned to enter the house.
As soon as he had disappeared, Lashmar followed, and rang the door bell. Of the servant who came, he asked whether Miss Bride was down yet. The domestic went to inquire. Waiting in the hall, Dyce heard a footstep behind him; he turned and saw May, who, with features discomposed, just met his eyes and hurried away up the staircase. When the servant returned, it was with a request that Mr. Lashmar would step into the library. There, in a few minutes, Constance joined him.
"You are early!" she exclaimed. "No bad news, I hope?"
"No. But I want a little quiet talk with you. Of course it's absurd to come at this hour. You know I lunch here to-day, and I couldn't have gone through with it without seeing you in private. I'm in a queer state of mind; very much upset; in fact, I never felt such need of a true friend to consult."
Constance kept her eyes fixed upon him. She had been up for a couple of hours, reading in the French book which had reached her yesterday. The same volume had occupied her till long after midnight. Her face showed the effects of over-study.
"Tell me all about it," she said, with voice subdued to the note of intimacy, and look in which there shone an indulgent kindliness.
"You have often said that you wished me well, that you desired to help me in my career."
"Have I not done more than say it?" returned the other, softly.
"Indeed you have! Few women would have been capable of such self-sacrifice on a friend's behalf. You know the law of human nature; we always make old kindness a reason for demanding new. Again I am come to ask your help, and again it involves heroism on your part."
The listener's face grew troubled; her lips lost their suavity. Lashmar's eyes fell before her look.