“You,” she said again, walking stormily to and fro, and catching at her breath—­“You, in this house, with this life—­to talk of justice—­the justice that comes of slaying a man like Hurd!  And I must go back to that cottage, to that woman, and tell her there is no hope—­none!  Because you must follow your conscience—­you who have everything!  Oh!  I would not have your conscience—­I wish you a heart—­rather!  Don’t come to me, please!  Oh!  I must think how it can be.  Things cannot go on so.  I should kill myself, and make you miserable.  But now I must go to her—­to the poor—­to those whom I love, whom I carry in my heart!”

She broke off sobbing.  He saw her, in her wild excitement, look round the splendid room as though she would wither it to ruin with one fiery, accusing glance.

“You are very scornful of wealth,” he said, catching her wrists, “but one thing you have no right to scorn!—­the man who has given you his inmost heart—­and now only asks you to believe in this, that he is not the cruel hypocrite you are determined to make him!”

His face quivered in every feature.  She was checked a moment—­checked by the moral compulsion of his tone and manner, as well as by his words.  But again she tore herself away.

“Please go and order the carriage,” she said.  “I cannot bear any more.  I must go home and rest.  Some day I will ask your pardon—­oh! for this—­and—­and—­” she was almost choked again—­“other things.  But now I must go away.  There is some one who will help me.  I must not forget that!”

The reckless words, the inflection, turned Aldous to stone.  Unconsciously he drew himself proudly erect—­their eyes met.  Then he went up to the bell and rang it.

“The brougham at once, for Miss Boyce.  Will you have a maid to go with you?” he asked, motioning the servant to stay till Miss Boyce had given her answer.

“No, thank you.  I must go and put on my things.  Will you explain to Miss Raeburn?”

The footman opened the door for her.  She went.

CHAPTER XIV.

“But this is unbearable!” said Aldous.  “Do you mean to say that she is at home and that she will not see me?”

Mrs. Boyce’s self-possession was shaken for once by the flushed humiliation of the man before her.

“I am afraid it is so,” she said hurriedly.  “I remonstrated with Marcella, but I could do nothing.  I think, if you are wise, you will not for the present attempt to see her.”

Aldous sat down, with his hat in his hand, staring at the floor.  After a few moments’ silence he looked up again.

“And she gave you no message for me?”

“No,” said Mrs. Boyce, reluctantly.  “Only that she could not bear to see anybody from the Court, even you, while this matter was still undecided.”