You'd rouse the house quicker in that way.

SOPHY.

Much obliged to you for the hint. I will--I will--[_She goes to the bell-rope and grasps it; then she looks round and sees him calmly turning the leaves of a book he has selected. She stares at him, with sudden misgiving._] Ha, now we shall see how much your grand scheme amounts to!

QUEX.

We shall. Ring the bell.

SOPHY.

[_Blankly._] What do you mean?

QUEX.

Pooh, my dear! ring, ring, ring! or yell! You won't be the first semi-circ.u.mspect young person who has got herself into a sc.r.a.pe and then endeavoured to save herself by raising a hullabaloo.

[_She slowly takes her hand from the bell-rope and moves a step or two towards him._

SOPHY.

Oh, that's what you'd try to make out, is it? [_He raises his eyes from his book and gives her a significant look. Leaning upon the arm of the settee, she says faintly._] You--you--!

QUEX.

Yes, I tell you again, my dear, you have got yourself into a shocking mess. You've got _me_ into a mess, and you've got yourself in a mess.

SOPHY.

[_Pulling herself up and advancing to him till she faces him._] You--you are an awful blackguard, my lord.

QUEX.

Thank you, my dear. But you're not far wrong--I was a blackguard till I met Miss Eden; and now, losing Miss Eden, perhaps I'm going to be a bigger blackguard than before. At the same time, you know, there's not much to choose between us; for you're a low spy, an impudent, bare-faced liar, a common kitchen-cat who wriggles into the best rooms, gets herself fondled, and then spits. [_Pa.s.sing her and throwing himself, full-length, upon the settee and settling himself to read._] Therefore I've no compunction in making you pay your share of this score, my dear Sophy--none whatever.

[_She walks feebly to the pa.s.sage-door and stands rattling the handle in an uncertain way. At last she breaks down and cries a little._

SOPHY.

Oh! oh! oh! let me go, my lord. [_He makes no response._] Do let me go--please! will you? [_Approaching him and wiping her eyes upon the sleeve of her night-dress._] I hope your lordship will kindly let me go.

QUEX.

[_Shortly._] No.

SOPHY.

[_Steadying herself._] I don't want to rouse the house at this time o'

night if I can help it--

QUEX.

Don't you?

SOPHY.

Though I am certain I can make my story good anyway. But I'd rather your lordship let me out without the bother--[_Piteously._] Do! [_He turns a leaf of his book. She speaks defiantly._] Very well! very well! here I sit then! [_Seating herself._] We'll see who tires first, you or I! you or I! [_Again snapping her fingers at him._] Bah! you horror!

you--horror!

QUEX.

[_Raising himself on his elbow._] Will you have this sofa? [_She gives him a fierce look._] A gla.s.s of your wine?

[_She rises, with a stamp of the foot, and once more paces the room. He sips his wine and re-settles himself. She goes distractedly from one object to another, now leaning upon a chair, then against the pillar of the cheval-gla.s.s. Ultimately she comes to the bell-rope and fingers it again irresolutely._

SOPHY.

[_Faintly._] My lord--! [_He remains silent. She releases the bell-rope._] Oh--h--h! [_She pauses by the settee, looking down upon him as though she would strike him; then she walks away, and, seating herself in the chair by the bedside, drops her head upon the bed. The clock tinkles the half-hour. There is a short silence. Suddenly she rises, uttering a sharp cry, with her hand to her heart._] Oh!

[_panting_] oh! oh!

QUEX.

[_Looking at her._] What now?

SOPHY.

Valma!

QUEX.

Valma?

SOPHY.

Mr. Valma! oh, you know he is in the house!

QUEX.

He! what's he doing here?

SOPHY.

The housekeeper gave him permission to sleep here. You know! [_Stamping her foot._] Don't you know?

QUEX.

[_Sitting up, alertly._] Ho! my jealous friend, the palmist. _He_ is on the premises, hey?

SOPHY.