“'Tis very regrettable,” said he. He fell thoughtful a moment. Then: “Will you send word to Mistress Winthrop that I am here, and would speak with her, Humphries?”
Humphries conducted Mr. Caryll to the little white and gold withdrawing-room that was Hortensia's. There, in the little time that he waited, he revolved the situation as it now stood, and the temptation that had been with him for the past three days rose up now with a greater vigor. Should Lord Ostermore die, Temptation argued, he need no longer hesitate. Hortensia would be as much alone in the world as he was; worse, for life at Stretton House with her ladyship—from which even in the earl's lifetime she had been led to attempt to escape—must be a thing unbearable, and what alternative could he suggest but that she should become his wife?
She came to him presently, white-faced and with startled eyes. As she took his outstretched hands, she attempted a smile. “It is kind in you to come to me at such a time,” she said.
“You mistake,” said he, “as is but natural. I had not heard what had befallen. I came to ask your hand in marriage of his lordship.”
Some faint color tinged her cheeks. “You had decided, then?”
“I had decided that his lordship must decide,” he answered.
“And now?”
“And now it seems we must decide for ourselves if his lordship dies.”
Her mind swung to the graver matter. “Sir James has every hope,” she said, and added miserably: “I know not which to pray for, his recovery or his death.”
“Why that?”