So far good; but Captain Marcus Glen, her old lover, was present, and Mr Paul Montaigne.
Marie sank into the nearest chair. Paul Montaigne caught Ruth by the wrist, and whispered a few words; while, on seeing who had come, Marcus Glen stepped boldly forward, and seemed ready to defend the woman he loved.
“Be silent,” whispered Montaigne—“not a word! Your only hope now is to cling to me.”
“May I ask what is the meaning of this meeting, Lady Henry?” asked his lordship. “I had a telegram advising me to come here, and I find you in company with Captain Glen.”
“Who came to meet me, Lord Henry,” cried Ruth, flinging off Montaigne’s grasp and clinging to Glen’s arm.
Glen directed one glance at Marie, who had turned from him, and was standing with knitted brow, half-closed eyes, and blanched face, crushed down as it were by her shame, and with all a soldier’s quickness of decision he determined to try and save her.
“Let me explain, Lord Henry—Lady Henry,” said Glen quickly. “I am to blame for this clandestine meeting. Lady Henry, you meant well by your pursuit, but you cannot alter matters now. Ruth accepts me as her husband, and nothing but force would take her away. If I have spoken too plainly, you must forgive me. Once more, I am to blame.”
“Well acted,” muttered Montaigne. “Now, my Lady Marie; it is your turn now.”
But Marie stood as if stunned.
“This is fine, heroic language, Captain Glen,” said Lord Henry; “may I ask to how many ladies you have used it before?”