The old lady saw that in the reader's countenance, as he read this odd story, which riveted her gaze. Perhaps conscious of her steady and uncomfortable stare, as well as of a real parallel, he grew obviously disconcerted, and at last, as it seemed, even agitated as he proceeded.
"Young man, for Heaven's sake, will you tell me who you are?" said Lady Alice, her dark old eyes fixed fearfully on his face, as she rose unconsciously from her chair.
The young man, very pale, turned a despairing and almost savage look from her to Beatrix, and back to her again.
"You are not a Strangways," she continued.
He looked steadily at her, as if he were going to speak, then dropped his glance suddenly and remained silent.
"I say, I know your name is not Strangways," said the old lady, in increasing agitation.
"I can tell you nothing about myself," said he again, fixing his great dark eyes, that looked almost wild in his pallid face, full upon her, with a strange expression of anguish.
"In the Almighty's name, are you Guy Deverell?" she screamed, lifting up her thin hands between him and her in her terror.
The young man returned her gaze oddly, with, she fancied, a look of baffled horror in his face. It seemed to her like an evil spirit detected.
He recovered, however, for a few seconds, something of his usual manner. Instead of speaking, he bowed twice very low, and, on the point of leaving the room, he suddenly arrested his departure, turning about with a stamp on the floor; and walking back to her, he said, very gently—