For as she spoke in the anger and bitterness of her heart, the door opened, and, veiled and in a large black cloak, Marie glided in, to shrink cowering away in horror and shame, holding up her hands to keep Ruth off, but in vain, for the girl flung her arms round her, and then turned her head, so as to face Glen.
“You here, Ruth!”
“Yes, to save you from this shame. Oh, Marie, think of dear Lord Henry!” she cried passionately; “think of the disgrace, the horror and remorse to come!”
“I have thought till I can think no more,” moaned Marie. “Oh, Ruth, Ruth, why did you come?”
“In heaven’s name, yes! Why did you come?” cried Glen fiercely, as he tried to tear the couple apart.
“No; keep off!” cried Ruth. “I have told you why: because I would not stand by and be a witness of this shame.”
“But, Ruth, you do not know; you cannot tell. It is too late now.”
“I tell you it is not too late!”
“Yes, my child, it is,” said a low, soft voice; and there stood Paul Montaigne, with his calm aspect and bland smile. “It is too late; the step is taken by you, Ruth, as well as by Marie here. Captain Glen, I will see that Miss Allerton comes to no harm.”
“By what right do you intrude?” cried Glen hotly.