She was silent.  Then she added: 

“I’ve told you now what I wished to tell you, all I can tell you.”

In thinking beforehand of what this interview would probably be like Lady Ingleton had expected it to be more intense, charged with greater surface emotion than was the case.  Now she felt a strange coldness in the room.  The dry rattling of the window under the assault of the gale was an interpolated sound that was in place.

“Your husband has never mentioned your name to me,” she said, influenced by an afterthought.  “And yet I’ve come here, because I know that the only hope of salvation for him is here.”

Again her eyes went to “Wedded,” and then to the sister’s dress and close-fitting headgear which disguised Rosamund.  And suddenly the impulsiveness which was her inheritance from her Celtic and Latin ancestors took complete possession of her.  She got up swiftly and went to Rosamund.

“You hate me for having come here, for having told you all this.  You will always hate me, I think.  I’ve intruded upon your peaceful life in religion—­your peaceful, comfortable, sheltered life.”

Her great dark eyes fixed themselves upon the cross which lay on Rosamund’s breast.  She lifted her hand and pointed to it.

“You’ve nailed him on a cross,” she said, with almost fierce intensity.  “How can you be happy in that dress, worshiping God with a lot of holy women?”

“Did I tell you I was happy?” said Rosamund.

She got up and stood facing Lady Ingleton.  Her face still preserved something of the coldness, but the color had deepened in the cheeks, and the expression in the eyes had changed.  They looked now much less like the eyes of a “sister” than they had looked when she came into the room.

“Take off that dress and go to Constantinople!” said Lady Ingleton.

Rosamund flushed deeply, painfully; her mouth trembled, and tears came into her eyes, but she spoke resolutely.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.  “You were right to come here and to tell me.  If I hate you, as you say, that’s my fault, not yours.”

She paused.  It was evident that she was making a tremendous effort to conquer something; she even shut her eyes for a brief instant.  Then she added in a very low voice;

“Thank you!”

And she put out her hand.

Tears started into Lady Ingleton’s eyes as she took the hand.  Rosamund turned and went quickly out of the room.

Some minutes after she had gone Lady Ingleton heard rain beating upon the window.  The sound reminded her of the umbrella she had “stood” in the corner of the room when Rosamund came in.  It was still there.  Impulsively she went to the corner and took it up; then, realizing that Rosamund must already be on her way, she laid it down on the table.  She stood for a moment looking from “Wedded” to the damp umbrella.

Then she sat down on the sofa and cried impetuously.