"Come with me to my room." She nodded towards her husband. "We shall be quieter there."
"I cannot. I must get back. I am going"--a shudder--"home this evening."
Mr. Paulton turned round and said:
"You shall not go to-night. You must not leave us so soon. Go with my wife; she will comfort you. You have an hour between this and luncheon."
The beautiful woman raised her face.
"Forgive me, Mr. Paulton. I have as much hatred of anything like a scene as any one else, but I feel--I feel a bit broken--broken down. I am not so young as I look. I am thirty-four; but in all my life I have lived alone, within myself, and your kindness--the kindness of you and Mrs. Paulton has been too much for me. It may sound strange, but kindness is unkindness to me. I shall be better when I find myself alone once more. I am used to such companionship--none other. Good-bye."
He went to her, and took her again by the hand.
"Hush, child--hush! I will not have you leave us to-day. If we have been able to do a little for you, do you a little for us. Stay with us this one day, if no more--only this one day."
"No, no; I cannot. Good-bye."
"Wait!" he said, holding up his hand and approaching the folding doors that opened into the front room. "It is a long and lonely journey to the south of Ireland. Perhaps we can find you an escort--company." He passed into the front room. The two young men were seated at the window looking out on the little garden between the house and the road. "You re going to Ireland, to Kilcash, Alfred--when?"