I was riding in the Central Park and he joined me. I saw at once he was changed; and my glad smile died away at his constrained formal greeting. He struck the blow at once, with scarcely a word of preamble.
"I am leaving for Europe to-morrow, Miss von Dreschler," he said. "I have enjoyed New York immensely."
The chill of dismay was too deadly to be concealed. I gripped the pommel of the saddle with twitching, strenuous fingers.
"You have been called away suddenly?" I asked; my instinct being thus to defend him even against himself.
He paused, as if hesitating to use the excuse I offered.
"No," he answered. "It has been arranged for weeks. These things have to be with us, you know."
In a flash his baseness was laid bare to me; and the first sensation of numbing pain dumbed me. I had not then acquired the art of masking my feelings. But anger came to my relief, as I realized how he had intentionally played with me. I knew what a silly trusting fool I had been; and knew too that had I been a man, I would have struck him first and killed him afterwards for his dastardly treachery. I was like a little wild beast in my sudden fury.
He saw something of this; for his eyes changed. "I am so sorry," he said. As if a lip apology were sufficient anæsthetic for the stabbing pain in my heart.
"For what, Count von Ostelen?" I asked, lifting my head and looking him squarely in the eyes. The question disconcerted him.
"I did not know——" he stammered, and stopped in confusion.