'Come,' he said, and turned to the house.
She pulled herself angrily away.
'You are deceiving me,' she said. 'I won't go with you.'
But Manisty captured her again.
'Yes—we must have our talk,' he said, with firm cheerfulness; 'there will be no time to-night.'
She broke into some passionate reproach, speaking in a thick low voice almost inaudible.
He answered it, and she replied. It was a quick dialogue, soothing on his side, wild on hers. Lucy, who had dragged herself from her attitude of mortal languor, sat with both hands grasping her chair, staring at the brother and sister. Eleanor had eyes for none but Manisty. Never had she seen him so adequate, so finely master of himself.
He conquered. Alice dropped her head sullenly, and let herself be led away. Then Eleanor turned to Lucy, and the girl, with a great sob, leant against her dress, and burst into uncontrollable tears.
'Has she been long here?' said Eleanor, caressing the black hair.
'Very nearly an hour, I think. It seemed interminable. She has been telling me of her enemies—her unhappiness—how all her letters are opened—how everybody hates her—especially Mr. Manisty. She was followed at Venice by people who wished to kill her. One night, she says, she got into her gondola, in a dark canal, and found there a man with a dagger who attacked her. She only just escaped. There were many other things,—so—so—horrible!'—said Lucy, covering her eyes. But the next moment she raised them. 'Surely,' she said imploringly, 'surely she is insane?'