She drew a long breath, and then raised herself suddenly, and looked all around. Gradually the truth of her position returned to her. She drew herself away from me, and buried her face in her hands, and sat in silence for a long time. I waited in patience and anxiety for her to speak, and feared that the excitement and the anguish which she had undergone might have affected her mind.
Suddenly she started, and looked at me with staring eyes.
"Did he send you?" she gasped, in a strange, hoarse, choking voice.
Her face, her tone, and the emphasis of her words, all showed the full nature of the dark suspicion that had flung itself over her mind.
"He! Me!" I cried, indignantly. "Never! never! Can you have the heart to suspect me? Have I deserved this?"
"It looks like it," said she, coldly.
"Oh, listen!" I cried; "listen! I will explain my coming. It was a mistake, an accident. I swear to you, ever since that day on the ice, I've been haunted by your face—"
She made an impatient gesture.
"Well, not your face, then. I did not know it was yours. I called it the Lady of the Ice."
"I do not care to hear," said she, coldly.