"Quite right."
"And your father never heard of her again?"
"Never!"
"It is a bold guess to make, Rosamond, but the impression is strong on my mind that, on the day when Mrs. Jazeph came into your room at West Winston, you and that servant met, and she knew it!"
"And the Secret, dear—the Secret she was afraid to tell my father?"
"Must be in some way connected with the Myrtle Room."
Rosamond said nothing in answer. She rose from her chair, and began to walk agitatedly up and down the room. Hearing the rustle of her dress, Leonard called her to him, and, taking her hand, laid his fingers on her pulse, and then lifted them for a moment to her cheek.
"I wish I had waited until to-morrow morning before I told you my idea about Mrs. Jazeph," he said. "I have agitated you to no purpose whatever, and have spoiled your chance of a good night's rest."
"No, no! nothing of the kind. Oh, Lenny, how this guess of yours adds to the interest—the fearful, breathless interest—we have in tracing that woman, and in finding out the Myrtle Room. Do you think—?"
"I have done with thinking for the night, my dear; and you must have done with it too. We have said more than enough about Mrs. Jazeph already. Change the subject, and I will talk of any thing else you please."