Enter, sir, if your conscience will permit
you.''
The stranger turned on him a scowl, into which
it seemed as if he would willingly have thrown
the power of the fabled basilisk. Then stepping
proudly forward, he stalked into the room. He
was followed by Lawford and Gray at a little distance.
The messenger remained in the doorway.
The unhappy young woman had heard the disturbance,
and guessed the cause too truly. It is Possible
she might even have seen the strangers on
their descent from the carriage. When they entered
the room, she was on her knees, beside an
easy chair, her face in a silk wrapper that was hung
over it. The man called Mon
ada uttered a single
word; by the accent it might have been something
equivalent to _wretch_; but none knew its import.
The female gave a convulsive shudder, such as that
by which a half-dying soldier is affected on receiving
a second wound. But without minding her
emotion, Monada seized her by the arm, and with
little gentleness raised her to her feet, on which
she seemed to stand only because she was supported
by his strong grasp. He then pulled from her
face the mask which she had hitherto worn. The
poor creature still endeavoured to shroud her face,
by covering it with her left hand, as the manner
in which she was held prevented her from using
the aid of the right.
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