Star, with one look into his white set face, and a glance of astonishment from him to Josephine, whose countenance, for once in her life, expressed blankest dismay, sank back pale and shivering into the chair from which she had risen when Miss Richards addressed her.
That young lady felt for the moment as if she would like the ground to open and swallow her forever from sight.
But the situation was a desperate one—so desperate that she did not care for anything; so, quickly rallying, she tossed her dark head and retorted with a light laugh:
“Miss Gladstone was just telling me, my lord, that she had heard of my marriage, and I was only carrying out the joke a little further.”
“I understand you,” he said, briefly, but in accents of intense scorn.
Then, with a quick, eager step, he came between her and Star, who, with her white hands folded helplessly in her lap, her face like purest marble, felt as if earth was again slipping forever out of her reach, for her senses were reeling.
With a stern, authoritative gesture he motioned Josephine away, and, reaching down, he took Star’s hands in his.
“My darling,” he said, in low, thrilling tones, “has she been torturing you to death? There is not one word of truth in what she has told you. Come with me, and let me explain everything to you.”
A mocking laugh, which, however, was full of misery, rang through the room.
Lord Carrol looked back and saw Josephine, her face almost convulsed with pain and passion, passing out.