she got
there it was twenty minutes to eight.

Her maid had been dreadfully worried, as she had given no orders as to
what she would wear--but Henriette, being a person of intelligence, had
put out what she thought best,--only she could not prevent her anxiety
and impatience from causing her to go on to the landing, and hang over
the stairs at every noise; and Tristram, coming out of his room already
dressed, found her there--and asked her what she was doing.

"I wait for _Miladi_, _Milor_, she have not come in," Henriette said.
"And I so fear _Miladi_ will be late."

Tristram felt his heart stop beating for a second--strong man as he was.
_Miladi_ had not come in!--But as they spoke, he perceived her on the
landing below, hurrying up--she had not waited to get the lift--and he
went down to meet her, while Henriette returned to her room.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, with a pale, stern face. He was too
angry and suspicious to let her pass in silence, and he noticed her
cheeks were flushed with nervous excitement and that she was out of
breath; and no wonder, for she had run up the stairs.

"I cannot wait to tell you now," she panted. "And what right have you to
speak to me so? Let me pass, or I shall be late."

"I do not care if you are late, or no. You shall answer me!" he said
furiously, barring the way. "You bear my name, at all events, and I have
a right because of that to know."

"Your name?" she said, vaguely, and then for the first time she grasped
that there was some insulting doubt of her in his words.

She cast upon him a look of withering scorn, and, with the air of an
empress commanding an insubordinate guard, she flashed:

"Let me pass at once!"

But Tristram did not move, and for a second they glared at one another,
and she took a step forward as if to force her way. Then he angrily
seized her in his arms. But at that moment Francis Markrute came out of
his room and Tristram let her go--panting. He could not make a scene,
and she went on, with her head set haughtily, to her room.

"I see you have been quarreling again," her uncle said, rather
irritably: and then he laughed as he went down.

"I expect she will be late," he continued; "well, if she is not in the
hall at five minutes to eight, I shall go on."

And Tristram sat down upon the deep sofa on the broad landing outside
her room, and waited: the concentrated essence of all the rage and pain
he had yet suffered seemed to be now