She gave a keen and fierce glance with her sunken eyes, and drawing him into one of the deeply bayed windows, pointed to where the square keep and round towers of the castle of Corstorphine threw a long dark shadow across the frozen lake that, like a mirror before its gates, lay shining in the cold light of the winter moon.
"You see yonder castle?" she said.
"Yes."
"And the aged sycamore beside the dovecot-tower?"
"Yes—yes."
"Then remember how, nine years ago, the lord of that fair mansion perished under its shadow; and how his own good rapier, urged by the hand of the woman he had wronged, was driven—yea, to the very hilt—in his false and fickle heart. Often at mirk midnight have I seen the dead-light glimmering on his tomb in St. John's kirk, and illuminating the west window of the Forresters' aisle."
She gave him a glance so expressive of hatred, fear, contempt, and reproach that he almost quailed beneath it; and as she pointed to the veiled portrait, he turned abruptly away. Her words and allusion had evidently a deep effect on Clermistonlee. He was about to retire, but paused irresolutely, turned, and paused again. Then kissing Lilian's hand, he said in a gentle tone—
"Forgive me if I have offended, but love for you makes me perhaps act unwisely. Adieu, dear Lilian: if my presence is obnoxious, I hasten to relieve you of it. Till to morrow, adieu; and pleasant dreams to you."
He bowed profoundly, and retired to his own apartment followed by Juden, who kept close to his heels as a spaniel would have done.
"Will you not sup, Madam Lilian?" asked Beatrix in a kinder tone than usual.