"I think it is I who have to speak," said my lord, and marvelled that she should be so sure of this perfect understanding between them, when in reality (and this was strange and piteous) she did not comprehend his motive in being here, nor in the least grasp his feelings towards her. He looked at her keenly, decided she was not foolish, but exalted, and wondered still more in a kind of shame.
Miss Boyle stood still. In a quite unconscious way she seemed to be listening to the sweet sound of the bells. Her bearing held no confusion nor agitation; she did not appear to be waiting for either confession or caresses. My lord found himself at a loss; his thoughts flew to Miss Chressham. He smiled to himself and watched the pure profile of Selina Boyle.
Presently she glanced round at him and gave a little sigh, as if she awoke reluctantly from a reverie.
"Will you tell me how she died?"
The Earl was startled beyond concealment.
"How she died? Who?"
Miss Boyle answered softly.
"The Countess."
His face darkened.