“I have just come from the parsonage,” he continued, with a quiet smile, addressing George. “My bird of birds had flown, but I left the beautiful Cora waiting with great impatience.”
Irving gave me a look that made me almost cry out—turned, leaped the wall with a single bound, and left me alone with that reptile.
He looked after George with a smile that died coldly on his lips beneath my searching glance.
“What is this?” I questioned, “your manner has changed, sir. It insults—it offends me!”
“What, you are angry because I have driven away that boyish profligate,” he answered; “the lover of Cora, the betrothed of Estelle.”
“It is false,” I cried, full of indignation.
“Ask Lady Catherine!” he replied.
“I will ask himself,” I answered.
“Then you have promised another meeting; it will be a good excuse. But let me warn you, a second private appointment of this kind may reach Lady Catherine. I have but to drop a hint even now, and you are driven ignominiously from the estate; while he—perhaps you have forgotten that but for the bounty of his uncle and Lady Catherine Irving—he is a beggar.”
Oh, how the wretch tortured me! I felt every word he spoke like the touch of cold iron.