The ladies had entered the room a moment before them, and they now heard from the gentlemen, with astonishment, that the Honorable Lester Vane, walking in the garden, had been suddenly attacked and felled to the earth by some unknown assailant.
Not the least astounded of the party present was Helen Grahame.
The blood rushed from her heart to her brain; she felt as though a thousand bells were ringing in her ears. Then the life-stream swept back to her heart, leaving her as cold as death—and as colourless.
Hugh Riversdale and Lester Vane had encountered each other.
What had passed?
Her first impulse was to dart out of the room—the house, and flee anywhere—anywhere!
The next, to remain where she was, face all that might be brought forward to crush her for ever, and to deny every charge firmly, steadfastly; even to deny Hugh Riversdale, if in custody he were brought forward to confront her.
Oh! that she could only know what had actually occurred, so that she might be prepared to enact the part it would be best for her to play.
Why did Lester Vane refuse to explain what had happened, when he first recovered, in Mr. Grahame’s presence? Why did he defer it until all were assembled in the drawing-room? Did he know that she had had an interview with Hugh Riversdale?
This was remarkable, and much disturbed her. Yet if he did know that she had a clandestine meeting with his assailant, he could surely entertain no feeling of animosity towards her—that seemed impossible. The acquaintance of an hour could hardly have raised up in his breast a wish to injure her. Yet why did he pursue the strange course of refusing to relate what had passed, unless he knew she would be present to hear the recital?