"Why-" cried she.
"Oh! there you are," I said bitterly. "Then Mistress Jermyn is within doors."
Then I turned and went straight upstairs after her; and, as I went heard the ring of running footsteps in the paved passage out of doors, and knew that the guard was coming up. The fellow still leaned, dazed, against the doorpost; and the old woman was pouring out scream after scream.
I went after Dolly straight into the room from which she had come. It was a little parlour, very richly furnished, with candles burning, and curtains across the windows. It looked out towards the river, I suppose. Dolly was standing, as pale as paper; but I could not tell—nor did I greatly care—whether it were anger or terror. I think I must have looked pretty frightening—(but then, she had spirit enough for anything!)—for I was still in my splashed boots and disordered dress, and as angry as I have ever been in my life. I could see she was not dressed for Her Majesty; so I supposed—(and I proved to be right)—that she was not in attendance this evening. It was better fortune than I deserved, to find her so.
"Now," said I, "what are you doing here?"
(I spoke sharply and fiercely, as to a bad child. I was far too angry to do otherwise. As I spoke, I heard the guard come in below; and a clamour of voices break out. I knew that they would be up directly.)
"Now," I said again, "you have your choice! Will you give me up to the guard; or will you hear what I have to say? You can send them away if you will. You can say I am your cousin?"
She looked at me; but said nothing.
"Oh! I am not drunk," I said. "Now, you can—"
Then came a thunder of footsteps on the stairs; and I stopped. I knew I had broken every law of the Court; I had behaved unpardonably. It would mean the end of everything for me. But I would not, even now, have asked pardon from God Almighty for what I had done.