"Nor hear any noise?"
"I—thought I heard a noise; I am positive I thought so. And I heard Lord Level's voice."
"That you naturally would hear. A man whose life is being attempted would not be likely to remain silent. But you must try and give me a better explanation than this. You say something suddenly awoke you. What was it?"
"I cannot tell you," repeated Lady Level.
"Was it a noise?"
"N—o; not exactly. I cannot say precisely what it was."
Mr. Ravensworth deliberated before he spoke again. "My dear Lady Level, this will not do. If these questions are painful to you, if you prefer not to trust me, they shall cease, and I will return to town as wise as I came, without having been able to afford you any assistance or advice. I think you could tell me more, if you would do so."
Lady Level burst into tears and grew agitated. A disagreeable doubt—guilty or not guilty?—stole over Mr. Ravensworth. "Oh, heaven, that it should be so!" he cried to himself, recalling how good and gentle she had been through her innocent girlhood. "I came down, hoping to be to you a true friend," he resumed in a low tone. "If you will allow me to be so, if you will confide in me, Blanche, come what may, I will stand by you."
There was a long silence. Mr. Ravensworth did not choose to break it. He had said his say, and the rest remained with Lady Level.
"Lord Level has made me very angry indeed," she broke out, indignation arresting her tears. "He has made me—almost—hate him."