I was in a rage myself, and sprang to my feet with a sharp exclamation of disgust.

“Really, Lady Henriette, you will drive me to wash my hands of the whole business.  But I came into it to oblige your sister, and I owe it to her to do my best without reference to you.  I have marked out a line for myself, and I shall follow it.  Unless you are disposed to change your views, I shall stick to mine; and I do not see the use of prolonging this interview.  I will bid you good day.”

I moved towards the door, still keeping an eye on her, believing her to be quite set in her fatuous refusal to hear reason.  She still held herself erect and defiant, and there seemed to be small hope of doing anything with her.  Then suddenly I saw symptoms of giving way.  Signals of distress were hung out in her quivering lip and the nervous twitching of her hands.  All at once she broke down and cried passionately: 

“No, no, no; you must not leave me—­not like that.  I cannot bear it; I am too miserable, too agitated, too terrified.  I have no one to lean on but you.  What shall I do?  What shall I do?” And she collapsed into a chair, weeping as if her heart would break.

The situation was awkward, embarrassing.  At another time I might have been puzzled how to deal with it, but this was a moment of supreme emergency.  A great crisis was imminent, the ruin of our scheme and the downfall of our hopes were certainly at hand if I gave way to her.  Everything depended upon my action, and I knew that the only chance of safety lay in the execution of my design.

This being so, her tears made no great impression on me.  I may be called a hard-hearted brute, but I really had no great sympathy with her in her lamentations.  It was not an occasion for tears, I felt; and I must be firm and unwavering, whatever she might think of me.  I counted, at any rate, and with some assurance, on the approval of Lady Claire if the details of this painful scene should ever come to her ears.

Nor could I wait till she chose to regain her composure.  Time was too precious to be wasted in any attempts to win her back to common sense, and without waiting for permission I crossed the room, rang the bell, and begged the waiter to summon the lady’s maid.  She was a strongly built, matter-of-fact French woman, probably not easily disturbed; but she glanced apprehensively at her mistress, and turned a suspicious look on me.

“You had better see to your lady,” I said sharply.  “She has an attack of nerves.  I’ve no doubt it will soon pass, but I’m afraid I have imparted some distressing news.  Be good enough to tell her when she recovers that I shall come back in half an hour, when I trust she will be ready to accompany me.”

“What is this?” broke in Lady Henriette, suddenly interposing and evidently roused to deep interest in my words.  “Accompany you?  Where, I should like to know?”

“Is that of much consequence?  You have entreated me not to leave you.  Well, we shall not part; I propose to take you away with me.  Do you object?  It was your own wish.”