"Will you listen to me for a few moments? I think you will find it to your interest, madam."
Miss Chressham twisted her handkerchief in agitated fingers.
"Say what you will."
A faint smile touched the maid's thin lips.
"You were at the masque last night? My lord and my lady were there, as you know. My lady returned about three of the clock, and found a letter from Mr. Hilton with ill news in it. She waited up for my lord, and there followed a scene of some violence—on her part."
Miss Chressham interrupted.
"What do you mean by recounting to me these things? I will not hear them."
"I tell you them merely to explain what follows, madam," answered Honoria, unmoved. "My lady, who beats herself in a vain passion of hatred against my lord's scorn, comes upstairs in a fever, talking incoherently of ruin, and falls into hysterics. She faints three or four times in the night, and lies in a stupor till midday. This morning a friend of Sir Francis Boyle comes with, I think, a challenge for my lord, who leaves the house, with no inquiry after the Countess."
"A challenge!" interjected Miss Chressham.
"I believe so, madam; but I am speaking of my mistress. She rose this afternoon, took the coach, and came here, though she was not fit to leave the house. Soon after she returned and told me that Mr. Marius—Captain Lyndwood—had left here and taken lodging in Westminster. She said she had the address."