At the sound of Dudleigh's voice Sir Lionel's emotion increased. He breathed heavily. His face turned purple. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the railing. Suddenly, in the midst of Dudleigh's remarks, he started to his feet, and seemed about to say something. Immediately in front of him were Dalton and Mrs. Dunbar. At that instant, as he rose, Mrs. Dunbar laid her hand on his arm.
He looked at her with astonishment. He had not seen her before. She fixed her solemn eyes on him—those eyes to which had come a gloom more profound, and a sadness deeper than before. But Sir Lionel stared at her without recognition, and impatiently tried to shake off her hand.
“Who are you?” he said, suddenly, in a trembling voice—for there was something in this woman's face that suggested startling thoughts.
Mrs. Dunbar drew nearer to him, and in a whisper that thrilled through every fibre of Sir Lionel's frame, hissed in his ear,
“I am your wife—and here is my brother Frederick!”
Over Sir Lionel's face there came a flash of horror, sudden, sharp, and overwhelming. He staggered and shrank back.
“Claudine!” he murmured, in a stifled voice.
“Sit down,” whispered Lady Dudleigh—now no longer Mrs. Dunbar—“sit down, or you shall have to change places with Frederick's daughter.”
Sir Lionel swayed backward and forward, and appeared not to hear her. And now his eyes wandered to Dalton, who stood gazing solemnly at him, and then to Dudleigh, who was still speaking.
“Who is that?” he gasped.