"There is the letter that you told me to leave for you when I had sealed it," she went on.

"I suppose you have her Ladyship's orders.
Isn't it time you began to think of obeying them ?" The contemptuous composure of her tone and manner seemed to act on Moody with crushing effect.

Without a word of answer, the unfortunate steward took up the letter from the table.

Without a word of answer, he walked mechanically to the great door which opened on the staircase--turned on the threshold to look at Isabel--waited a moment, pale and still--and suddenly left the room.
That silent departure, that hopeless submission, impressed Isabel in spite of herself.

The sustaining sense of injury and insult sank, as it were, from under her the moment she was alone.