That deliberate insult was all that I wanted to make me completely mistress of myself. I told Michael to wait a moment, and opened my writing desk. I wrote on an envelope the address in London of a faithful old servant, who had attended my mother in her last moments. I gave it to Michael. “Call there to-morrow morning,” I said. “You will find me waiting for you.”
He looked at Lady Claudia, evidently unwilling to leave me alone with her. “Fear nothing,” I said; “I am old enough to take care of myself. I have only a word to say to this lady before I leave the house.” With that, I took his arm, and walked with him to the door, and said good-by almost as composedly as if we had been husband and wife already.
Lady Claudia’s eyes followed me as I shut the door again and crossed the room to a second door which led into my bed-chamber. She suddenly stepped up to me, just as I was entering the room, and laid her hand on my arm.
“What do I see in your face?” she asked as much of herself as of me—with her eyes fixed in keen inquiry on mine.
“You shall know directly,” I answered. “Let me get my bonnet and cloak first.”
“Do you mean to leave the house?”
“I do.”
She rang the bell. I quietly dressed myself, to go out.
The servant answered the bell, as I returned to the sitting-room.
“Tell your master I wish to see him instantly,” said Lady Claudia.