It is Lyndall, followed by Doss.
Quietly as she enters, he hears her, and turns.
"I thought you were not coming."
"I waited till all had gone to bed. I could not come before."
She removed the shawl that enveloped her, and the stranger rose to offer
her his chair; but she took her seat on a low pile of sacks before the
window.
"I hardly see why I should be outlawed after this fashion," he said,
reseating himself and drawing his chair a little nearer to her; "these are
hardly the quarters one expects to find after travelling a hundred miles in
answer to an invitation."
"I said, 'Come if you wish.'"
"And I did wish. You give me a cold reception."
"I could not take you to the house. Questions would be asked which I could
not answer without prevarication."
"Your conscience is growing to have a certain virgin tenderness," he said,
in a low, melodious voice.
"I have no conscience. I spoke one deliberate lie this evening. I said
the man who had come looked rough, we had best not have him in the house;
therefore I brought him here. It was a deliberate lie, and I hate lies. I
tell them if I must, but they hurt me."
"Well, you do not tell lies to yourself, at all events. You are candid, so
far."
She interrupted him.
"You got my short letter?"
"Yes; that is why I come. You sent a very foolish reply; you must take it
back.
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