“I did not mean to do it—I beg your pardon. But this morning I’m afraid I am impatient; things have tried me.”
“What things? Am I one of them? I am so sorry—please forgive me! I want you to be my friend, and more than my friend. You see how I am all alone.”
“I see; I do see that.”
The appeal which was in her eyes as they looked into mine stirred my pulses strangely. I know not what wild words were trembling on my lips; before they had a chance of getting spoken Mrs. Peddar put her head through the door and called to me—
“Mr. Ferguson, can I speak to you for a minute, please?”
I went to her at once. I perceived that the news had reached her. Her first words showed it.
“You have heard, sir, of the dreadful thing which has happened to Mr. Lawrence?”
“I have.”
“From what I’m told”—we were in a small room which served her as a sort of ante-chamber; she looked about her furtively, as if she feared that walls had ears; the hand which she had laid upon my arm was trembling—“from what I’m told it seems that it must have been done just before the young lady—came—to your room.”
“Such seems to be the case, from what I’m told.”