"Have you not?" asked the Countess, easily.
"Not so much as her foot," replied Wogan.
The conviction came upon him suddenly. Her hurried journey to Bologna
and her presence at Ohlau were explained to him now by her absence from
the room. His own arrival at Bologna had not remained so secret as he
had imagined. The fragile and gossamer lady, too flowerlike for the
world's rough usage, was the woman who had spied in his room and who had
possessed the courage to stand silent and motionless behind the curtain
after her presence there had been discovered. Wogan had a picture before
his eyes of the dagger she had held. It was plain that she would stop at
nothing to hinder this marriage, to prevent the success of his design;
and somehow the contrast between her appearance and her actions had
something uncanny about it. Wogan was inclined to shiver as he sat
chatting with the Countess. He was not reassured when Lady Featherstone
boldly entered the room; she meant to face him out. He remarked,
however, with a trifle of satisfaction that for the first time she wore
rouge upon her cheeks.
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