In my earnestness I had drawn near and laid one hand upon the back of her chair. She made no reply to my words, but I saw a slight shiver pass through her frame.
“Ah, madam, forgive me,” I said hastily. “The window is open, and you are cold.” And I made as though to close it.
“No, no, sir,” she cried hastily, rising to her feet in sudden agitation. “Indeed you are mistaken. On the contrary,” she added, raising her hand to her brow, “the room is very close, or I am not feeling quite myself. And I have left my fan in the garden. Will you permit me to fetch it, Mr. Cassilis?”
“Nay, madam, will you not rather permit me to perform this slight service for you, the while you remain quietly here?”
“I think that it is upon the fountain in the Rose Garden,” she murmured. Then as with a bow I turned away, she added: “But I cannot so far trouble you, sir. I am overmuch in your debt already.”
I had reached the window, but I turned at her words.
“A debt which you are repaying me in full to-night, madam,” I said with a smile.
“Ah!” she cried, gazing at me with increased perturbation.
“Why do you say that, Mr. Cassilis? Why do you speak like that?”
“Because,” I answered, returning her glance firmly, “by your kindness and trust in me to-night you more than reward me for that which I have suffered at your hands. And I—I seek but to serve your ladyship, however humbly!” And I turned upon my heel and left her standing there.