"I will only ask in return," commenced his lordship, "that you will listen to me for a few moments; that you will allow me to tell you what is in my mind,—my heart."
Madeleine saw that the evil hour could not be escaped, or postponed, and she answered with calm dignity which would have awed a man less under the dominion of passion, "You are at liberty to speak, my lord; yet what is there of importance which your lordship can have to say to the mantua-maker?"
Lord Linden, at first, found it difficult to avail himself of the privilege so frigidly given; but he soon collected himself.
"The mantua-maker? How little that title seems to belong to you! The proudest, the noblest lady could not have inspired me with the respect, the veneration I feel for you."
"Respect is peculiarly grateful to one in my position;" answered Madeleine pointedly.
This answer seemed to suggest that he might be forgetful of the respect due to her, and confused him for a moment; but such an opportunity as the present was not to be lost. He went on with renewed animation.
"From the first moment that I met you,—from the moment when, during that memorable journey, you shone forth as the guardian angel of all the suffering—and especially mine"—
Madeleine tried to restrain him again, by saying, with a forced smile,—
"An angelic mantua-maker! You have a great faculty of idealizing, my lord. I believe the extent of my services to you consisted in the sacrifice of an old pocket-handkerchief, torn into strips for a bandage, and the use of my own especial implement, a needle, with which the bandages were sewed."
"I have those strips yet," replied the nobleman with ardor. "I shall never part with them,—they are invaluable to me; for, from the moment we met, I loved you!"