“Yes, madam?” I said inquiringly, as she paused.
“Forgive me if I am wrong,” she replied; “but I do not think that you are happy here.”
“Happy?” I cried, startled out of my self-control. “God knows that I am not! Do you imagine that I have no feeling? That it is pleasant for me to be shunned as if I were a leper—unfit for human ken? But for your kindly speech of me to-night, since first I came to Cleeve I have encountered naught save contumely and cruel words. Yet I would remind you, madam, that another in my place might not have dealt with you so leniently.”
In the silence that followed on my words—a silence in which the woman before me rose to her feet, and, laying the flowers that I had given her upon the fountain rim, stooped to collect her scattered colours—a quick step sounded on the terrace walk, and my lady’s figure appeared beneath the arch of yew.
“Why, Gracie?” she cried gaily. The fountain was between us—she had not discerned my presence. “I have been seeking everywhere for you! And what is this?” she continued, catching sight of the flowers, and raising them to inhale their fragrant odour. “Roses? Ah, now I understand! Cousin Rupert has been here, and the painting, I fear me, was but a pretext!”
“Indeed but you are wrong!” Mistress Grace replied with pretty confusion. “It was this gentleman who gave them to me!”
At her words I stepped aside, and my lady and I were face to face. It sent a swift pang to my heart to see the sudden change upon her face. A moment before she had been gay and smiling, but now, at sight of me the smile was frozen on her lips, and the hand in which she held the flowers fell to her side again. For it may be twenty seconds thus we stood, her eyes hardening with the pride I knew so well. Then she spoke. “It was kind indeed of Captain Cassilis to give us of our own,” she said coldly. “But in the house yonder there are of flowers enough and yet to spare. And for your compassion, sir, toward our fallen state, it may follow—these!”
She had been standing near to the wall that ran above the moat, and now, suiting the action to her words, she tossed the roses contemptuously into the black water below.
“Come, Gracie,” she added, turning on her heel.
In a few strides I had barred her further progress.