He was gone, and she gave a great sigh of exhaustion and relief; she had not thought of this from him, and he was in earnest too; well, it eased her mind with regard to the Countess. He had appealed to her, she could have done anything with him had she responded--now. Why could she not have cared for him, he was a finer man than--ah, for whose sake was she refusing him? She sank across the settee and hid her face in her hands. The feeling that had been the background of her life ever since she could remember, strong, intense, always, but always under control and hidden, broke all restraint and shook her from head to foot; she clasped her moist hands tightly and pressed them against her brow with a shiver. She asked herself what would become of Marius, and answered herself--nothing. He was drifting, like my lord, and she could put out no hand to save either, or did not. It seemed that no action was to redeem these last annals of their house. Marius would do nothing. Rose would do nothing, she would do nothing; the Countess wasted her malice, there was no fire to be struck out of the Lyndwoods. Miss Chressham had seen the Earl with Miss Trefusis on his arm. Sir Francis was appeased. Selina, most fortunate of all of them, could wrap her heart in dreams and go about smiling; she did not know him, at least not as his cousin did. There was Marius--poor Marius; his longings, his half-stifled aspirations had passed by her like the breeze that blew in from the dark town, but she knew that they had been real; even while she could not rouse herself to understand his mood she had hated herself that she must send him away bitter, unsatisfied. She rose and put out the candles. The two churches, St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and St. James's, struck the chiming quarters, and then the hour--one. Susannah, protected by the dark, made an uncontrollable movement of her locked hands to her bosom. "Oh Rose, Rose!" she murmured; then, with a shudder crushed the name back into her heart, and went softly through the silent beautiful house to her chamber. CHAPTER IX MY LORD ACTS The _contre-danse_ had come to an end. The Earl led Miss Trefusis back to her place, kissed her hand with a half-lazy glance into her languishing eyes, and turned slowly down the ballroom. It was after supper, and everyone was unmasked. My lord, in no mood for the unrestrained gaieties of the crowd, stepped into the garden and heard the chimes of St. James's Church that Miss Chressham listened to in her darkened drawing-room. The garden was full of may trees and limes, brightly lit with coloured lamps and filled with the melody of violins that floated from the pavilion on the lake.