Catherine's face.
She dared not look again; but she felt that the old man knew a
secret that she had been trying to hide from herself. Fool! he knew
it; and Hayes knew it dimly: and never, never, since that day of
the gala, had it left her, sleeping or waking. When Hayes, in his
fear, had proposed to sleep away from her, she started with joy:
she had been afraid that she might talk in her sleep, and so let
slip her horrible confession.
Old Wood knew all her history since the period of the Marylebone
fete. He had wormed it out of her, day by day; he had counselled
her how to act; warned her not to yield; to procure, at least, a
certain provision for her son, and a handsome settlement for
herself, if she determined on quitting her husband. The old man
looked on the business in a proper philosophical light, told her
bluntly that he saw she was bent upon going off with the Count, and
bade her take precautions: else she might be left as she had been
before.
Catherine denied all these charges; but she saw the Count daily,
notwithstanding, and took all the measures which Wood had
recommended to her. They were very prudent ones. Galgenstein grew
hourly more in love: never had he felt such a flame; not in the
best days of his youth; not for the fairest princess, countess, or
actress, from Vienna to Paris.
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