She turned at the sound of the closing of the door, and, upon seeing him, started slightly.  Then she rose, and delicately blushed.

‘Good-evening, Mr. Hugo,’ she said, in a low, calm voice.  ’I did not expect to see you.’

Great poetical phrases should have rushed to his lips—­phrases meet for a tremendous occasion.  But they did not.  He sighed.  ’I can only say what comes into my head,’ he thought ruefully.  And he said: 

‘Did I startle you?’

‘Not much,’ she replied.  ’I knew I must meet you one day or another soon.  And it is better at once.’

‘Just so,’ he said.  ’It is better at once.  Sit down, please.  I’ve been walking all day, and I can scarcely stand.’  And he dropped into a chair.  ‘Do you know, dear lady,’ he proceeded, ’that Doctor Darcy and I have been hunting for you all over Paris?’

He managed to get a little jocularity into his tone, and this achievement eased his attitude.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know.  I’m very sorry.’

‘But why didn’t you let Darcy know that you were coming to London?’

‘Mr. Hugo,’ she answered, with a charming gesture, ‘I will tell you.’  And she got up from her chair and came to another one nearer his own.  This delicious action filled him with profound bliss.  ’When I read in the paper that Mr. Ravengar had committed suicide, I had just enough money in my pocket to pay my expenses to London, and to keep me a few days here.  And I did so want to come!  I did so want to come!  I came by the morning train.  It was an inspiration.  I waited for nothing.  I meant to write to Mr. Darcy that same night, but that same night I caught sight of him here in Sloane Street, so I knew it was no use writing just then.  And I didn’t care for him to see me.  I thought I would give him time to return.  As a matter of fact, I wrote yesterday evening.  He would get the letter to-night.  I hope my disappearance didn’t cause you any anxiety?’

‘Anxiety!’ He repeated the word.  ’You don’t know what I’ve been through.  I feared that Ravengar, before killing himself, had arranged to—­to—­I don’t know what I feared.  Horrible, unmentionable things!  You can’t guess what I’ve been through.’

‘I, too, have suffered since we met last,’ said Camilla softly.

‘Don’t talk of it—­don’t talk of it!’ he entreated her.  ’I know all.  I saw your image in a coffin.  I have heard your late husband’s statement.  And Darcy has told me much.  Let us forget all that, and let us forget it for evermore.  But you have to remember, nevertheless, that in London you have the reputation of being dead.’

‘I have not forgotten,’ she said, with a beautiful inflection and a bending of the head, ’that I promised to thank you the next time we met for what you did for me.  Let me thank you now.  Tell me how I can thank you!’

He wanted to cry out that she was divine, and that she must do exactly what she liked with him.  And then he wanted to take her and clasp her till she begged for her breath.  And he was tempted to inform her that though she loved Darcy as man was never loved before, still she should marry him, Hugo, or Darcy should die.