Her eyes wandered vaguely, helplessly, from the face of the man towards the others. Constance had hastened to her assistance, and the knowledge that this was so seemed to stimulate her to a higher degree. With fine courage she grasped the back of a chair and summoned a wan smile to her aid.
"You will forgive me—if I leave you," she murmured. "I am so tired—so very tired."
She walked resolutely towards the door. Brand drew aside that she might pass. He looked at her no more. His wondering daughter saw that big drops of perspiration stood on his forehead.
Mr. Traill, no less astonished than the rest, offered to conduct Mrs. Vansittart to her room.
"No," she said, "I will go alone. I am used to it now, after so many years."
There was a ring of heartfelt bitterness in her voice which appealed to more than one of the silent listeners.
As the door closed behind her, Brand seemed to recover his senses.
"I must ask your pardon, Mr. Traill," he said quietly. "I assume that the lady who has just left us did not expect to see me here tonight. It would be idle to deny that the meeting was a shock to both of us. It revived painful memories."
Mr. Traill, scarce knowing what he said, so taken aback was he, exclaimed hastily:
"Mrs. Vansittart claimed you as an old acquaintance. The odd thing is that you, at any rate, did not discover that fact earlier."