“No, madame, you are a great deal too considerate to make such an uncourteous observation, but we cannot alter the events which are now past. We have to consider the future, and your daughter’s happiness in the years that are to come.”
“I am afraid she is tossed about in a stormy sea of trouble at the present moment. How it will end none of us can determine.”
“She has a sincere and attached friend in me, and anything I can possibly do to serve her will be most cheerfully done.”
“She looks upon you as her friend, Lord Ethalwood. I hope she is not mistaken.”
“Mistaken, madame! Do you doubt my sincerity?”
“I have the greatest possible esteem for you,” returned Madame Trieste.
The conversation was abruptly brought to a close by the girl, Agatha, making her appearance. She announced the arrival of a visitor.
At first Ethalwood thought it was his rival, but he was presently informed that the new arrival was an old lady who was a near neighbour of his hostess. The latter left the summer-house, and Lord Ethalwood soon found himself alone in the little alcove.
He was ill at ease, troubled in his mind, and did not know very well how to act. The matter could be easily enough brought to a satisfactory conclusion by his openly avowing his attachment for the French maiden, but for prudential reasons he refrained from adopting such a course.
His oath to his deceased relative was an insurmountable barrier, and, in addition to this, there were others of a lesser note.