He moved his arm suddenly.

“I don’t think you tied this handkerchief tight enough, Comtesse,” he said, again turning up his cuff.

I rose and looked at the bandage.

“Why, yes.  It is just the same as it was.  But I will do it again if you wish.”

This time it did not take me so long, but that ridiculous beating began again in my heart.

“It must have a double knot to keep it right,” said Antony.

My fingers seemed clumsy.  We were standing so close together there was a something—­an electricity—­which made my hands tremble.  Oh, this was folly!  I must not let myself feel so.  I finished the knot at last, and then said, stupidly: 

“I have an idea I should return to my worthy guests down-stairs,’”

Antony smiled.

“They are quite happy without you,” he said, “Vain little Comtesse, to think your presence is necessary to every one!”

“I dare say.  But—­I must go to them.”

“No, you must not.  Sit down in your low chair and forget all about them.  No good hostess fusses after her guests.  People like to be left to themselves.”

I sat down meekly.

“I never can understand,” said Antony, presently, “why your grandmother did not let me know when first you came to the cottage.  She was fully aware of the relationship between us, even if I was not.”

“Grandmamma was a very proud woman.  We were so very poor.  And then, there was grandpapa’s betise, which, I fancy, had quite separated them from his family.”

“What made her come to Ledstone at all, I wonder?”

I felt my cheeks getting pink, and bent down to look into the fire.

“She wanted to live in England, so that I might become English by growing up there, and—­and it was cheap.  We had been in London before that, and back in Paris, and down at Brighton, and a lot of dull places.  I remember she saw the advertisement in the paper one morning and took the cottage immediately.”

“You had heard that we were relations?” he asked.

“Yes, vaguely.  But I did not know how many of you there were, only that the present holder of the title was a Sir Antony.”

“It was a strange coincidence neither of us should have caught the other’s name at the ball that night.”

“Yes.”

“Afterwards, when we talked you over at Harley, every one had got information about you, it seemed.  They were all so awfully interested in you.  You looked such an extraordinary contrast to the rest of the company.”

“Well, I am glad of that.”

He smiled.

“It was when I heard that your grandmother was a Frenchwoman I grasped everything.  I remembered there was some story in the family about a younger son marrying a beautiful Parisienne.  But it seemed to me it must be too far back to be possible.  And then Lady Tilchester told me she was a very old woman.  So we came over next day.”