But he did not press for her meaning; Lorelie marked that. And there was an interval of silence ere he resumed his catechism.
"Your father, Captain Rochefort—was he drowned?"
"I have reasons—very strong reasons—for believing that he escaped the fury of the sea, only to be murdered."
While speaking she kept her gaze fixed upon the earl's face to mark the effect of her words. Unless she was mistaken there was in his eyes something very like the light of fear.
"Murdered?" he said. "What leads you to this strange belief?"
"With your lordship's permission I will reserve my reasons for another time.—You have not yet said," she added quietly, "whether you acknowledge me."
"You are my son's wife, and, therefore, my daughter. Welcome to Ravenhall!"
Rising from his seat he approached and kissed her. And at this seal of recognition Ivar heaved a sigh of relief. The trying ordeal was over, and it had not ended, as he had fancied that it might, in his enforced retirement from Ravenhall.
When the earl touched Lorelie's cheek with his lips he found her skin as cold as marble. She had submitted to the act, not knowing how to repulse it; but—kissed by her father's murderer! To receive such a kiss seemed to her mind like a condonation of the crime—a purchase of her position at the price of her father's blood.
She grew faint. Why was she placing herself in a position where day by day she would encounter the presence of this terrible earl? for to her he was terrible. A great longing came upon her to go back to The Cedars; but the thought of Idris calmed her. For his sake she would stay. Her belief that he was the rightful heir of Ravenhall was, after all, a matter of conjecture, not of knowledge: she must have proofs before telling him of her opinion: and, in her judgment, such proofs would be found at Ravenhall.