Well might he have been startled by the change that came over Gaston's countenance; the merriment by which it had been lighted up suddenly vanished; he looked aghast, astounded, and his features worked as though with ill-suppressed rage.
"I see you are amazed: I thought you would be! You did not take me for such a greenhorn! But, in spite of her trade,—her profession, as it is considerately called in this country,—she is the most peerless creature; any man might have been duped."
"And her name?" inquired Gaston, in an agitated voice, though he hardly needed the confirmation to his fears contained in Lord Linden's answer.
"Mademoiselle Melanie!"
"Good heavens! how unfortunate!" exclaimed Gaston, not knowing what he was saying.
"Unfortunate," repeated Lord Linden; "you may well say that. But as marrying her is out of the question, there may possibly be an alternative"—
"What alternative? What do you mean?" demanded Gaston, turning upon him fiercely.
"It does not strike me that my meaning is so difficult to divine," replied the other, lightly. "When a woman is not in a position to become the wife of a man who has fallen desperately in love with her, there is only one thing else that he will very naturally seek to"—
"Forbear, my lord! I cannot listen to such language," cried Gaston, angrily. "You could not insult a pure woman, no matter in what station you found her, by such a suggestion. I will not believe you capable of such baseness."
Lord Linden looked at him in questioning amazement; then answered, somewhat scornfully,—