Edermont wiped the sweat from his forehead, nodded weakly, and finally subsided into an armchair. Here he bowed his face in his hands, and Dora caught the drift of the words which he muttered in a low voice. They were those of his favourite prayer from the Litany. "'From battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver us,'" moaned the man; and then in some measure he recovered his serenity. Seized with a sudden anger at the abject terror he had displayed, at the shameful accusation he had levelled against her lover, Dora stepped forward and faced Mr. Edermont with an indignant look. "Now that you feel better," she said coldly, "perhaps you will afford me an explanation." Edermont looked at her in a dazed manner. He was a little man, scarcely five feet in height, and had a noble head, which seemed out of place on so insignificant a body. With his long white locks and streaming beard, he was quite an imposing figure when seated; but when standing, the smallness of his body, of his hands and feet, detracted from the majesty of his patriarchal looks. Also, his eyes were timid and restless; the silvery beard, which swept his breast, hid a weak mouth; and, stripped of his venerable disguise, Mr. Edermont would, no doubt, have looked what he was--a puny, irresolute, and insignificant animal. As it was, he imposed on everyone--until they knew him better. Dora had long since fathomed the narrow selfishness of his nature, and she saw him for what he was, not as he appeared to the outside world. It is but fair to add that she always treated him with deference in public. At the present moment there was no need to keep up appearances, and Dora spoke brusquely to the little man. In her heart she had as great a contempt for him as she had a disgust for Joad. They were both objectionable, she considered, and each had but one redeeming point--the noble head of Edermont, the noble voice of his friend. Beyond these, the first was more of a rabbit than a man; the second rather a satyr than a human being. Never had Dora detested the pair more than she did at the present moment. "I am waiting for your explanation, Mr. Edermont," she said again, as he did not reply. "I have no explanation for you," retorted her guardian wearily; "go away, Dora, and leave me in peace." The girl took a seat, and folded her arms. "I don't leave this room until I know why Allen left the house," she said firmly. "What has that to do with you?" cried Edermont in shrill anger; "our conversation was about private matters." "It was about Lady Burville." "What do you know of that woman?" he demanded, shrinking back. "I know that the mere sight of her caused you to faint," said Dora slowly, "and I know also that she was acquainted with Allen's father." "Lambert, you have betrayed me!" said Edermont in a tone of terror. "You have betrayed yourself, Julian," was Joad's reply. "I can guess why Allen Scott left the house."