And Mr. Gordon, after losing his presence of mind for about half a minute, and then only partially recovering it, silently offered his arm to the lady who had made that strange appeal to him. He had never seen her until to-night; he had hoped he never should see her, or have anything to do with her. She had been, in his imagination of her, the embodiment of all that was detestable in woman. But now something in the candid young face, unnaturally set and pale, and in the suppressed passion and purpose of her manner, gave him compunctious misgivings, and a vague but alarming impression that there had been some blundering somewhere. "You are Mr. Gordon, are you not?" she began hurriedly, as soon as they were out of the crowd and glare of the ball-room. "Yes, I thought so; but I did not recognise you at first. I should have waited for an introduction, but I was afraid you might go away. I think you know who I am. What you were saying just now--had it not some reference to me?" The little man began to stammer incoherently. He was completely overbalanced by the shock of this unexpected attack. Rachel, on the contrary, usually so fluttered by an emergency, had a sort of fierce, collected calm about her. "I am sure it had," she said. "And I want to know what you meant?" "I--a--perhaps you are aware that I am Mr. Dalrymple's friend, Mrs. Kingston. I am therefore, perhaps, something of a partisan--forgive me, if I forgot myself for the moment--" "Ah," she broke out sharply, "there has been some great mistake! Tell me--quickly--before anyone is here to interrupt us--did you come to see my aunt that Christmas--the Christmas before last?" "Certainly I came to see her and you," he replied. "Did he send you?" "Of course he did." "Why?" "Why!" he echoed angrily. "Do you mean to say you don't know why?" "I know _nothing_," said Rachel. She stood before him shining in her satin and diamonds, without a trace of colour in her face; and the anguish of her beseeching eyes told him plainly that she spoke the truth. "Oh, dear me, this is terrible!" he exclaimed, in a flurry of dismay and consternation. "Do you mean to say that you didn't know that he was ill?--that you didn't tell Mrs. Hardy to write that letter?--that it was all done without your knowing anything about it? Good Heavens! would anybody believe there were such malignant fiends in existence--and such fools!" he added bitterly. Then he told her the whole story--how her lover had got hurt, and had lain insensible for many days, between life and death--how his first anxiety upon recovering consciousness was about his appointment with her--how he had deputed his friend to go to Melbourne and explain his inability to keep it; and how he (Mr. Gordon) had seen Mrs. Hardy and afterwards Mr. Kingston, and been led by them to an apparently unavoidable conclusion.