Susannah observed her; she could not dislike her manner, and vulgar, mean little soul that she was, this Honoria Pryse, she seemed a person of control and resource. Miss Chressham assented. "I shall not be delayed more than a few moments." The Countess Lavinia's maid curtsied gravely, and left the room, as if she departed for the most ordinary errand. For a second Susannah stood still and dazed. She had, all her life, been a spectator of, and a wise commentator on, other people's actions. Never until now had she been called upon to decide, to act, to accomplish, to put a thing through for the sake of a tremendous end. She could not reflect on what she did nor how she was going to do it. Why she did it was the one paramount fact in her mind. She put it to herself in so many words; and this strange creature who had come to her penetrated her motive. "I think you would risk a great deal to save the Earl of Lyndwood's name from infamy." Well, what did it matter if the whole world so thought? She set her teeth and threw back her shoulders. As long as she could save his name from this woman who bore it, she would. The colour was in her face, and the fire in her eyes, as she went upstairs for her hat and mantle. CHAPTER XII MARIUS ENSNARED When the Countess Lavinia saw her chair and page disappearing down the street, when she found herself standing alone, with perfect freedom before her, a sudden giddiness seized her, and she caught at one of the street posts, utterly at a loss. This part of the town was new to her, she had traversed it only once or twice before, and then in a coach. The resolve that had brought her so far faded before the novelty, the extraordinary novelty of her situation; she looked about her with wondering eyes, hardly able to believe that she, a prisoner all her life to someone or something, had dared so much, that she really stood there, unnoticed, unquestioned, free. Let whatever would happen hereafter, whether she had to pay or no, whether she failed or succeeded in her desperate attempt to alter her life, the next few hours were hers absolutely, to do what she would with. She looked up at the clock and saw that it was close on seven. There were very few people about; on the steps of the church a woman sat selling roses in a green rush basket; an empty hackney rolled over the cobbles; above the irregular roofs of the houses the sky showed a faint flushed gold stained with little torn clouds of deep pink. The Countess, acting on no impulse save that of her sudden freedom, turned in the direction where she knew the river must lie.