He moved away from the spinet, mistrusting her, uneasy, the colour still in his fair face; he kept his eyes on her, noting how different she was, admitting her slender elegance and flaunting grace. She played a little prelude, not looking at the notes but at him; then she glanced down at her slim hands and began to sing: "I hung a bird in a wicker cage To catch the morning sun, And saw below the people rage And press, and shout, and run, To see her walk, her guards between, With her face to the Maytime sun." Marius fingered his sword and walked up and down, but he was listening and she knew it. "I was a clerk at a window, with learnèd books to write, She was a Mary Martyr and sin in the Church's sight." The Countess did not raise her eyes; she sang softly, and the words of the laboured incongruous song struck to the heart of her listener. "The bird sang in his prison To a captive daffodil, That with the spring had risen, In the pot on my window sill. The sky was bright as a jewel Through the trees on Tower Hill. As her stainèd feet crept onward, I saw the people turn-- And I looked at the Mary Martyr whose body and soul must burn. "Young was she and slender, Lo! but a wondrous thing. Her face was as full of splendour As the primrose woods in spring, When God bends through the branches, To hear the mavis sing. She was but a Mary Martyr, cursed for her heresy, But her eyes were clear as water and troubled the heart in me." The Countess rose swiftly. "Are you glad to be in London?" she said; she came towards him, swinging her gloves; he was aware of the perfume of her garments, of the heavy soft sound of her moving velvet. "I think I am leaving again for Paris, madam," he looked at her straightly. "Shall I not fetch Miss Chressham?" "No," answered Lady Lyndwood. "I came to see you. I learned from the mantua-maker she would be here at this hour. I chanced finding you alone." He thought her speech outrageous; his nostrils distended a little and his eyes darkened. "You flatter me," he said shortly. She smiled. "And now I have seen you, and you have nothing to say." "What should we have to say to one another, my lady?" His mouth set, and he frowned. "Do not do that," said the Countess suddenly. "You look like your brother." She moved to the work-table and picked up her gloves; he bit his lip and was silent. The Countess spoke again. "This is a beautiful room, is it not? This house cost my lord a vast sum--you Lyndwoods are very extravagant," she drew her gauntlets on slowly. "I doubt if even a wealthy match can save you--the fortune of a merchant's daughter has its limits--if the marriage were to last only as long as the money I were soon free." Marius turned to gaze at her. "Do you mean to insult us?" he said in a goaded way. She shrugged her shoulders.