which penetrated into the room and illuminated both Laura's face and
that of the mysterious person. Our young lady recognised her sister, as
Mrs. Berrington had evidently recognised her. 'Why, Selina!' broke from
her lips before she had time to check the words. At the same moment the
figure turned quickly away, and then Laura saw that it was accompanied
by another, that of a tall gentleman with a light beard which shone in
the dusk. The two persons retreated together--dodged out of sight, as it
were, disappearing in the gloom or in the labyrinth of the objects
exhibited. The whole encounter was but the business of an instant.
'Was it Mrs. Berrington?' Mr. Wendover asked with interest while Laura
stood staring.
'Oh no, I only thought it was at first,' she managed to reply, very
quickly. She had recognised the gentleman--he had the fine fair beard of
Captain Crispin--and her heart seemed to her to jump up and down. She
was glad her companion could not see her face, and yet she wanted to get
out, to rush up the stairs, where he would see it again, to escape from
the place. She wished not to be there with _them_--she was overwhelmed
with a sudden horror. 'She has lied--she has lied again--she has
lied!'--that was the rhythm to which her thought began to dance. She
took a few steps one way and then another: she was afraid of running
against the dreadful pair again. She remarked to her companion that it
was time they should go off, and then when he showed her the way back to
the staircase she pleaded that she had not half seen the things. She
pretended suddenly to a deep interest in them, and lingered there
roaming and prying about. She was flurried still more by the thought
that he would have seen her flurry, and she wondered whether he believed
the woman who had shrieked and rushed away was _not_ Selina. If she was
not Selina why had she shrieked? and if she was Selina what would Mr.
Wendover think of her behaviour, and of her own, and of the strange
accident of their meeting? What must she herself think of that? so
astonishing it was that in the immensity of London so infinitesimally
small a chance should have got itself enacted. What a queer place to
come to--for people like them! They would get away as soon as possible,
of that she could be sure; and she would wait a little to give them
time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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