Constance had paid little attention to these commands, and, on returning to the library, she made no haste to begin upon her secretarial duties. For more than an hour she sat brooding. Only as a relief to her thoughts did she at length begin to write letters. It was shortly before mid-day when again there came a summons from Lady Ogram; obeying it, Constance took Lord Dymchurch's letter in her hand.
Lady Ogram had risen. She was in the little drawing-room upstairs, reclining upon a sofa; the effort of walking thus far had exhausted her.
"I hear that Mr. Lashmar has called this morning," she began, half raising herself, but at once sinking back again. "What did he come about? Can't he come to lunch?"
"Yes, he will be here at one o'clock," Constance replied.
"Then why did he come? It was before nine. What had he to say?"
"He wanted to speak to me in private."
"Oh, I suppose that's privileged," returned the autocrat, smiling. "What have you got there? Something just come?"
"It's a note for you from Lord Dymchurch."
"From Lord Dymchurch? Give it me at once, then. Where is he? Why couldn't he wait till I came down?"
She tore the envelope with weak trembling hands. Constance watched her as she read. Of a sudden, the shrunk, feeble figure sprang upright, and stood as though supported by the vigorous muscles of youth.