"Could I rouse my lord in that way?" demanded the Countess with a sudden gleam in her tired eyes.
"In what better," Honoria answered; "what does this letter mean?" she lightly touched it. "He must have written to her saying he could not bear to see her married, and she says, 'for your sake I remain unwed,' what more?"
The Countess Lavinia rose impatiently.
"My life is Hell, Honoria, and some way I must alter it." She paced up and down, the loose gown flowing about her, an expression if utter wretchedness on her sallow face. "I saw Marius Lyndwood yesterday, the same as always—why was I never young like that? The regret of it, Honoria—the early spring last year in Paris; my God, why have I lost it all?" She spoke in a stifled voice and walked to and fro as if driven into movement by inward pain. "I would rather die to-morrow in the ruin of his house, than live like this; I cannot do it, Honoria."
"Ye have your wild moods, my lady," answered the maid calmly, "but life is well worth living and you have fairer prospects than others. What is there before my lord? He has changed since I have watched him."
"Never in his contempt of me."
"You have always Mr. Hilton and the money," continued Honoria unmoved, "but the Earl is slipping easily to ruin."
"He has been to my father for money," cried the Countess. "Again to my father, who has told me the Treasury could not supply the life we led; well, I shall be ruined also, and not, God knows, through pleasure; however, we talk wildly; if there is nought but the pistol or the Fleet for him, what is there but the river or Bedlam for me?"
Honoria Pryse sorted out the curling-irons.