"Minnie, you will be mad to do so!" answered her cousin, much agitated. "Mr. Tremenhere, in his excited state, will see even more than was meant, and I will answer for nothing."
"Truth, dear Dora, always carries its own shafts to the heart. I cannot conceal any thing from Miles; it would kill me to do so. Where should I hide a secret from him? he reads my very soul; 'tis ever open before him."
"And do you wish, perhaps, for bloodshed? I cannot see where it will terminate. Pray, let me explain all to his lordship first, then there can be nothing to fear."
Minnie justly argued, that Lord Randolph's visit had been made to her husband, not knowing she was even there; but Dora overruled this.
"Mr. Tremenhere," she said, "was in that excited state when speaking of the possibility of insult to you, that if he know this to-day, he will be capable of any thing. Pray, Minnie!—dear Minnie! promise me the secret until to-morrow evening; I will come here then, and tell Mr. Tremenhere myself, and he must acknowledge I did right. He will applaud your good sense; whereas, if you tell, what can control his rage before then?"
Minnie began crying. The idea to her, of concealment from Miles, was so dreadful, that she could not for a length of time overcome her repugnance; but Dora so forcibly impressed upon her mind the dread of a duel, that in the certainty of its only being for one day, and as no untruth, only silence, was required, she consented; and Lady Dora, embracing her cordially, with her own handkerchief dried the tearful eyes, and left her, promising to return next evening, and in the meanwhile see Lord Randolph, and disclose all to him. She had perfectly arranged it herself, as we often do events; but quite overlooked such a thing as fatality.