"I must tell you," said Susannah, "though this is not the place. Still, a few words are best, and we need never refer to it again."
Her powdered hair and bronze-coloured silk gown accentuated the pallor of her fair face. She looked tired, anxious, and her voice, for all her obvious effort at control, trembled on her words.
"I have heard from Honoria Pryse."
The Earl glanced at her sharply.
"Why does she write to you?"
"She writes concerning Marius"—Miss Chressham pressed her handkerchief to her lips. "Having fled with my lady's jewels, she kept silence at the time, nor does she now disclose her whereabouts; but she has had on her mind my lady's—the Countess Lavinia's—dying wish, and she writes to me. But I do not care to show you her letter, Rose."
"Tell me what she says."
"Yes, since it is by her—the Countess Lavinia's—desire that anyone speaks at all," answered Susannah. "I—I will strive to be brief and gentle." She took breath a moment. "It seems she followed you that night to Hyde Park," continued Susannah hurriedly; "she was there at the duel. God forgive her! She had previously drawn your pistol, finding occasion that evening when you left it set out in the library. I have not the details, but the bare facts suffice. She wished your death. I think perhaps she cared for—I would say she did not wish that Marius, your second, should bear the weight of her sin; so after she had made certain of her end she laid it on Honoria to confess to you. But the girl fled, thinking only of herself. Still, conscience has worked, and she sends to me this late avowal."
The Earl had kept silence, was silent now. Susannah could read nothing from his pale profile.