“Take heed what you say and do, Countess,” he whispered.  “You will excite this woman’s suspicions.”

“Why should your ladyship implore Heaven’s pardon because my poor dear lady is near her end?” inquired Sarah.

“I sue for it because I have caused her much affliction,” replied the Countess.

“Your message, Sarah—­your message?” interposed Lord Roos.  “What have you to say to me?”

“My lady desires to see you once more before she expires, my lord,” replied Sarah.  “She would take leave of you; and—­and—­she has something to impart to you.  You will not refuse her last request?”

“He will not—­he will not, I am sure,” cried the Countess, seeing him look irresolute.

“I did not expect to be seconded by you, my lady,” observed Sarah, in increasing surprise.

“Would that I, too, might see her and obtain her forgiveness!” exclaimed the Countess, without heeding the remark.

“An idle wish, and not to be indulged,” said Lord Roos.

A sudden idea appeared to strike Sarah, and she cried, “Your ladyship’s desire may possibly be gratified.  My poor lady desires to part in peace with all the world, even with those who have injured her.  I will communicate your wishes to her, and it may be she will consent to see you.”

“You shall have a reward well worthy of the service if you accomplish it,” said the Countess.  “Hasten to her with all speed, my Lord, and I will follow in my litter, ready to attend Sarah’s summons.”

“I like not the plan,” rejoined Lord Roos.  “You are wrong to go.  Why need you see her?”

“Why?” she answered, regarding him fixedly.  “Because it may be some little consolation to me afterwards.”

“Then go alone,” said Lord Roos savagely.  “I will not accompany you.”

“I do not ask you to accompany me, but to precede me,” she replied.  “Now, mark me, my Lord,” she added in a low, firm tone, “and be assured I do not advance more than I will perform.  If you refuse your wife’s dying request, I will go back with Sarah and confess all to her.”

Lord Roos looked as if he could have annihilated her, and muttered a terrible imprecation on her head.

“Threaten me—­ay, and execute your threats hereafter if you will,” continued the Countess in the same low decided tone, “but go you shall now.”

Her manner was so irresistible that Lord Roos was compelled to obey, and he quitted the room without a word more, followed by Diego and Sarah Swarton, the latter of whom signed to the Countess that she might depend upon the fulfilment of her wishes.

They had not been gone many minutes before Lady Exeter entered her litter, and wholly unattended by page or serving-man, except those in charge of the conveyance, caused herself to be conveyed to Sir Thomas Lake’s lodgings in Whitehall.

CHAPTER IV.