Shivering in her damp clothes she mounted the narrow stairway with the cautious step that was natural to her; on the second landing a noise beneath attracted her attention; she leaned over the banisters and saw a girl in a flowered gown hanging a lamp in the hall.
When she had gone again and all was still, the Countess turned and opened the door opposite.
It led into an unlit chamber; the Countess entered and softly shut herself in; the room was empty, quietly furnished. On the floor were a couple of portmantles, over a chair a cloak and a sword; books, papers, and a bunch of white roses lay on the little spinet in the corner. Through the two long windows showed the cold blue of the wet summer evening and the dark shadow of a creeper blowing loose from the bricks.
The Countess noticed all these things as she shivered on the threshold; she gave a little suppressed cough and moved forward, then stood still.
An inner door opened and Marius Lyndwood came out, holding a lighted candle.
He saw her instantly.
"Lavinia!" he cried.
This was extraordinary to her, he had never used her name before. She stared at him as he stood, arrested with the glow of the candle full on his horrified face.
"You did not think to see me," she said foolishly, then she sank on to one of the stiff chairs. "I am very cold, and tired; I have walked from Saint Martin's Church."