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he was, but I didn’t want to come with him; I wanted to
see you alone. So I’ve been waiting and walking about. I’ve
walked all over, and I was just coming to the house when I
saw you here. There was a keeper, or some one, who met me;
but that was all right, because I had made his acquaintance
when I came here with your cousin. Is that gentleman gone?
Are you really alone? I want to speak to you.’ Goodwood
spoke very fast; he was as excited as when they had parted
in Rome. Isabel had hoped that condition would subside;
and she shrank into herself as she perceived that, on the
contrary, he had only let out sail. She had a new sensation;
he had never produced it before; it was a feeling of danger.
There was indeed something really formidable in his resolu-
tion. She gazed straight before her; he, with a hand on each
knee, leaned forward, looking deeply into her face. The twi-
light seemed to darken round them. ‘I want to speak to you,’
he repeated; ‘I’ve something particular to say. I don’t want
to trouble you-as I did the other day in Rome. That was of
no use; it only distressed you. I couldn’t help it; I knew I was
wrong. But I’m not wrong now; please don’t think I am,’ he
went on with his hard, deep voice melting a moment into
entreaty. ‘I came here to-day for a purpose. It’s very differ-
ent. It was vain for me to speak to you then; but now I can
help you.’
She couldn’t have told you whether it was because she
was afraid, or because such a voice in the darkness seemed
of necessity a boon; but she listened to him as she had never
listened before; his words dropped deep into her soul. They
produced a sort of stillness in all her being; and it was with

830 The Portrait of a Lady