His eyes were an invitation for her to speak, and, without further invitation, in as few and simple words as possible, she told him why she had come to Beni-Mora, and something of her parents’ tragedy and its effect upon her.
“I wanted to renew my heart, to find myself,” she said. “My life has been cold, careless. I never lost my faith, but I almost forgot that I had it. I made little use of it. I let it rust.”
“Many do that, but a time comes when they feel that the great weapon with which alone we can fight the sorrows and dangers of the world must be kept bright, or it may fail us in the hour of need.”
“Yes.”
“And this is an hour of need for you. But, indeed, is there ever an hour that is not?”
“I feel to-day, I——”
She stopped, suddenly conscious of the vagueness of her apprehension. It made her position difficult, speech hard for her. She felt that she wanted something, yet scarcely knew what, or exactly why she had come.
“I have been saying good-bye to Count Anteoni,” she resumed. “He has gone on a desert journey.”
“For long?”
“I don’t know, but I feel that it will be.”