“‘Yes; it seems to me a quite inconceivable thing, but I am certain, though the man looked a gentleman all over.’
“‘He looked a gentleman all over,’ said Darthea, with strange deliberateness of speech.
“This while Mistress Wynne sat drawn up, her face set, and one hand moving on the arm of the chair, just the same queer trick her brother had. As for me, I watched Darthea. It was a merciless plot, and may have been needed; but in truth the way of it was cruel, and my heart bled for her I loved.
“As she spoke her tones were so strange that Mr. Delaney, who was clearly but an innocent though sharp tool, said: ‘I beg pardon, Miss Peniston. These sad stories are too dreadful to repeat. Miss Wynne would have it—’
“But Darthea was now quite lost to the common ways of life. She went on like a person questioning herself, as it sounded to me. ‘Arthur Wynne asked his name. Is that so?’
“Delaney said, ‘Yes,’ now, as I saw, quite troubled, and wishing himself out of it, I dare say.
“‘And he knew he was in rags, starved, dying, and he left him?’ continued Darthea, ‘He left him—to die.’
“‘Yes; but—’
“‘No matter. I must hear all—all!’ she cried sharply—‘all! I am the person most concerned.’
“‘Darthea!’ then exclaimed Miss Wynne, alarmed, I suppose, at her wild manner and breaking voice.