“I suppose—he might touch your estate—your life—am I right?”
“The first, the least he could do would be generous—you think he will not choose it?—again—am I right?”
A spot of bright color burnt in either cheek as she looked up at him; in the shade of her hat her eyes shone brightly.
“Be content, madam,” he said bitterly. “I think he will do the utmost.”
Lady Stair rose; as she lifted her head their eyes met.
“So,” she said very quietly. “You have given me that also—you have made me the wife of a disgraced, ruined man, you have dragged me into a hideous downfall of honor and estate. We of my father’s house have kept clear of these things—I think I am the first to be linked to a dishonored name.”
He stood silent, looking at her with an inscrutable expression.
“Reproaches from me will not sting you,” continued Lady Stair. “Dear Heaven, what are we to one another? I would have been spared this, yet it is a fitting end—”
Her wild eyes lifted and fell; she moved a step away across the grass.
“You are free to do as you will—free as the servants I can no longer pay. Do what is in your mind to do. No doubt they will not blame you—”
“I shall not ask you to share exile, a prison or death with me. I cannot hold you. I know it—only—”
“You said—just now—” he spoke with difficulty, a painful distinctness, “you—had kept clear of these things—you will remember it?”
“I think you do. You are my wife. You will soon be free of me, I think. Until you are, I ask your loyalty. That is all.”
“Of nothing,” he answered. “Least of all of meeting circumstance. Whatever occurs I can deal with it.”
There was a curious expression on Lady Stair’s face.
“You are very confident,” she said, “yet you stood high and you fell.”
“Madam—it is a thing that may be done magnificently.”
She stood silent a while with averted eyes, then she stooped, picked up her scarf from the grass and turned slowly toward the house.
Lord Stair watched the blue figure with the long shadow crossing the grass; watched her as she mounted the steps, traversed the terrace and disappeared into the house.
The beautiful garden was strangely desolate; he moved away from the fountain and his face was ghastly in the sunlight.
The hours were intolerably leaden; he reflected that he was a free man only till his enemies had the authority for his arrest; restlessness and the desire to use his liberty while he might made him leave the garden and call for his horse.