"What is the point, your Ladyship?" he queried blandly.
"That you set an end to all these Calumnies which are levelled against the Earl of Stour."
"How can we stay the Sun in his orbit?" he retorted; "or the Stars in their course?"
"You mean that your Campaign of Slander has already gone too far? But remember this, Mr. Betterton: that poisoned darts sometimes wound the hand that throws them. You may pursue the Earl of Stour with your Hatred and your Calumnies, but God will never allow an innocent Man to suffer unjustly."
Just for a few seconds Mr. Betterton was silent. He was still regarding the Lady with that same indulgent smile which appeared to irritate her nerves. To me, the very air around seemed to ring as if with a clash of ghostly arms—the mighty clash of two Wills and two Temperaments, each fighting for what it holds most dear: she for the Man whom she loved, he for his Dignity which had been so cruelly outraged.
"God will never allow," she reiterated with slow emphasis, "an innocent Man to suffer at the hands of a Slanderer."
"Ah!" riposted Mr. Betterton suavely. "Is your Ladyship not reckoning over-confidently on Divine interference?"
"I also reckon," she retorted, "on His Majesty's sense of justice—and on the Countess of Castlemaine, who must know the truth of the affair."
"His Majesty's senses are very elusive," he rejoined drily, "and are apt to play him some wayward tricks when under the influence of the Countess of Castlemaine. The Earl of Stour, it seems, disdained the favours which that Lady was willing to bestow on him. He preferred the superior charms and intellect of the Lady Barbara Wychwoode. A very natural preference, of course," he added, with elaborate gallantry. "But I can assure your Ladyship that, as Helpmeets to heavenly Interference, neither His Majesty nor the Countess of Castlemaine are to be reckoned with."
She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the ground. I could see that her lovely face expressed acute disappointment and that she was on the verge of tears. I am not versed in the ways of gentle Folk nor yet in those of Artists, but I could have told the Lady Barbara Wychwoode that if she wanted to obtain Sympathy or Leniency from Mr. Betterton, she had gone quite the wrong way to work.