"I do not know—was I playing?"
His grace gazed at his companion in amazement. Doubt and terror still struggled for the mastery on her pallid features; the large, mystic eyes were fixed sadly upon vacancy. Miss Walsingham was quite unconscious that she was walking through the centre of the long suite with a man who was coveted from her by half the ladies there. "Is it possible that it was an impromptu?"
"I—pardon me, your grace—I was playing without thinking."
"Do you know what it suggested to me? A battle-field—the retreat of the conquered—darkness—treachery, and murder."
"My lord duke, what day of the month is this?"
She stopped in her sudden waking up to horror, and in her sudden eagerness she trembled as she stood.
"The first of September."
"The first of September. I shall not forget."
"You are certainly distressed by something, Miss Walsingham. Let me be of service to you?"
"You can be of service to me, your grace. You can allow me to retire, and make some apology for me to Lady Julie which will not alarm her."