"Fanny!" cried Diana, in amazement, rising from her chair.
At her cousin's voice, Fanny halted, a few yards away.
"Well," she said, defiantly, "of course I know you didn't expect to see me!"
Diana had grown very pale. Muriel saw a shiver run through her--the shiver of the victim brought once more into the presence of the torturer.
"I thought you were in London," she stammered, moving forward and holding out her hand mechanically. "Please come and sit down." She cleared a chair of the miscellaneous needlework upon it.
"I want to speak to you very particularly," said Fanny. "And it's private!" She looked at Mrs. Colwood, with whom she had exchanged a frosty greeting. Diana made a little imploring sign, and Muriel--unwillingly--moved away toward the house.
"Well, I don't suppose you want to have anything to do with me," said Fanny, after a moment, in a sulky voice. "But, after all, you're mother's niece. I'm in a pretty tight fix, and it mightn't be very pleasant for you if things came to the worst."
She had thrown off her hat, and was patting and pulling the numerous puffs and bandeaux, in which her hair was arranged, with a nervous hand. Diana was aghast at her appearance. The dirty finery of her dress had sunk many degrees in the scale of decency and refinement since February. Her staring brunette color had grown patchy and unhealthy, her eyes had a furtive audacity, her lips a coarseness, which might have been always there; but in the winter, youth and high spirits had to some extent disguised them.
"Aren't you soon going home?" asked Diana, looking at her with a troubled brow.
"No, I'm--I'm engaged. I thought you might have known that!" The girl turned fiercely upon her.