Shivering in her damp clothes she mounted the narrow stairway with the cautious step that was natural to her; on the second landing a noise beneath attracted her attention; she leaned over the banisters and saw a girl in a flowered gown hanging a lamp in the hall. When she had gone again and all was still, the Countess turned and opened the door opposite. It led into an unlit chamber; the Countess entered and softly shut herself in; the room was empty, quietly furnished. On the floor were a couple of portmantles, over a chair a cloak and a sword; books, papers, and a bunch of white roses lay on the little spinet in the corner. Through the two long windows showed the cold blue of the wet summer evening and the dark shadow of a creeper blowing loose from the bricks. The Countess noticed all these things as she shivered on the threshold; she gave a little suppressed cough and moved forward, then stood still. An inner door opened and Marius Lyndwood came out, holding a lighted candle. He saw her instantly. "Lavinia!" he cried. This was extraordinary to her, he had never used her name before. She stared at him as he stood, arrested with the glow of the candle full on his horrified face. "You did not think to see me," she said foolishly, then she sank on to one of the stiff chairs. "I am very cold, and tired; I have walked from Saint Martin's Church." Marius set the candle on the object nearest to his hand, the spinet. "Is this with my lord's knowledge?" he asked. Their eyes met. "No," came her strained voice. "I have run away, it was no longer bearable." Marius was quite silent; his face, as she watched it, seemed to grow older, sterner, and anguished; as she saw his lips quiver she realised the utter wrong she offered him and remorse shook her. She dropped her head into her hands. He went to the window and looked out; when she raised her eyes again she could see only his back. "Are you not going to speak to me?" she asked; she resolved, even against the pang of her pity, that she would not spare him--neither him nor his brother, and she shuddered with the force of this resolve. "You expect I shall plead with you to go back, madam," he answered without looking round. Madam! but what had he called her in his surprise? The Countess rose, unfastened her hat and flung it on to the chair. "I am not going back," she said. "If you drive me away, turn me by force from your door. I--well, I shall not go back." "How did you find me?" he asked, still not turning. "Last night we spoke together, my lord and I. Well, you do not wish to hear what passed?" "No," said Marius. "No." "It was enough," continued the Countess. "I decided. I went this afternoon to find you. They gave me your address, and I--I saw only one thing to do, so I am here." She trembled a little as he still did not move, and drew her mantle closer over her thin dress. "I have been ill," she said. "How cold your room is."