She was not sure now, and she felt faint and giddy as she followed the man upstairs, and along a wide corridor. Should she ask him to stop? She dare go no farther, and her lips moved to stay him, when he paused by a door. Before she could find breath to speak or power of utterance, he tapped lightly, and she heard him say:
“A lady to see you, sir.”
There was the noise of a chair pushed quickly back, and a heavy tread upon the carpet as she entered, moved, it seemed to be, by some power that was not her own. Then as the door closed behind her she saw that she was right, for, exclaiming loudly, “Marie! my darling!” Glen caught her in his arms.
“Captain Glen!”
Ruth struggled indignantly from him, and snatched off her veil.
He staggered back.
“Ruth! you here?” he cried.
“Yes. I was compelled to come. Marie—my cousin—Lady Henry—Oh, Captain Glen!”
“Is she ill? Has she sent you? Do you know?” he whispered hoarsely.
“She has not sent me,” cried Ruth. “She does not know I have come. Oh, Captain Glen!” she cried, sobbing violently as she threw herself upon her knees and clasped his feet, “for heaven’s sake, spare her! Do not bring down such misery upon that home.”