“I did not know that you were coming back to luncheon,” she said; “I am afraid there is not much to eat.”
“Yes,” he said, “I finished my business up at the Castle, so I thought I might as well come home. By-the-by, Belle, I have a bit of news for you.”
“What is it?” she asked, looking up sharply, for something in his tone attracted her attention and awoke her fears.
“Your friend, Edward Cossey, is going to be married to Ida de la Molle.”
She blanched till she looked like death itself, and put her hands to her heart as though she had been stabbed.
“The Squire told me so himself,” he went on, keeping his eyes remorselessly fixed upon her face. She leaned forward and he thought that she was going to faint, but she did not. By a supreme effort she recovered herself and drank a glass of sherry which was standing by her side.
“I expected it,” she said in a low voice.
“You mean that you dreaded it,” answered Mr. Quest quietly. He rose and locked the door and then came and stood close to her and spoke.
“Listen, Belle. I know all about your affair with Edward Cossey. I have proofs of it, but I have forborne to use them, because I saw that in the end he would weary of you and desert you for some other woman, and that would be my best revenge upon you. You have all along been nothing but his toy, the light woman with whom he amused his leisure hours.”
She put her hands back over her heart but said no word and he went on.