what she would wear--but Henriette, being a person of intelligence, had
put out what she thought best,--only she could not prevent her anxiety
and impatience from causing her to go on to the landing, and hang over
the stairs at every noise; and Tristram, coming out of his room already
dressed, found her there--and asked her what she was doing.

"I wait for _Miladi_, _Milor_, she have not come in," Henriette said.
"And I so fear _Miladi_ will be late."

Tristram felt his heart stop beating for a second--strong man as he was.
_Miladi_ had not come in!--But as they spoke, he perceived her on the
landing below, hurrying up--she had not waited to get the lift--and he
went down to meet her, while Henriette returned to her room.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, with a pale, stern face. He was too
angry and suspicious to let her pass in silence, and he noticed her
cheeks were flushed with nervous excitement and that she was out of
breath; and no wonder, for she had run up the stairs.

"I cannot wait to tell you now," she panted. "And what right have you to
speak to me so? Let me pass, or I shall be late."

"I do not care if you are late, or no. You shall answer me!" he said
furiously, barring the way. "You bear my name, at all events, and I have
a right because of that to know."

"Your name?" she said, vaguely, and then for the first time she grasped
that there was some insulting doubt of her in his words.

She cast upon him a look of withering scorn, and, with the air of an