'Do not let me go,' the lips said; 'do not let me go.'
And the anguish with which it was said! If a fellow-creature had been lying at her feet begging for life, it could not have affected her more. She was so overcome that she shook. It was more heart-rending than anything she had ever heard in her whole life. Never had she thought that anyone could beg in such fearful anguish. Again and again the lips begged, 'Do not let me go!' And for every time the anguish was greater.
Ingrid did not understand it, but remained standing, filled with unspeakable pity. It seemed to her that more than life itself must be at stake for one who begged like this, that his very soul must be at stake.
The lips did not move any more; they stood half open in dull despair. When they assumed this expression she uttered a cry and stumbled. She recognised the face of the crazy fellow as she had just seen it.
'No, no, no!' she said. 'It cannot be so! It must not! it cannot! It is not possible that it is he!'
The same moment the face vanished. She must have sat for a whole hour on the cold staircase, crying in helpless despair. But at last hope sprang up in her, strong and fair. She again took courage to raise her head. All that had happened seemed to show that she should save him. It was for that she had come here. She should have the great, great happiness of saving him.
In the little boudoir her ladyship was talking to Miss Stafva. It sounded so pitiful to hear her asking the housekeeper to persuade her son to remain a few days longer. Miss Stafva tried to appear hard and severe.
'Of course, I can ask him,' she said; 'but your ladyship knows that no one can make him stay longer than he wants.'
'We have money enough, you know. There is not the slightest necessity for him to go. Can you not tell him that?' said her ladyship.