"Yes!" he said slowly, "for Your love I would do what You ask ... I would forego that Feast of Satisfaction, the Thought of which hath alone kept me sane these past few months.... Yes! for the Love of Lady Barbara Wychwoode I could bring myself to forgive even his Lordship of Stour for the irreparable wrong which he hath done to Me. I would restore to him his Honour, which now lies, a Forfeit, in my Hands: for I shall then have taken Something from him which he holds well-nigh as dear."
He paused, and met with the same calm relentlessness the look of Horror and of Scorn wherewith she regarded him.
"For my Love?" she exclaimed, and once more the warm Blood rushed up to her face, flooding her wan Cheeks, her pale Forehead, even her delicate Throat with crimson. "You mean that I? ... Oh! ... what Infamy! ... So, Mr. Actor, that was your reckoning!" she went on with supreme Disdain. "It was not the desire for Vengeance that prompted You to slander the Earl of Stour, but the wish to entrap me into becoming your Wife. You are not content with Your Laurels. You want a Coat of Arms ... and hoped to barter one against Your Calumnies!"
"Nay, your Ladyship!" he rejoined simply, "in effect, I was actually laying a Name famed throughout the cultured world humbly at your feet. You made an appeal to my Love for You—and I laid a test for your Sincerity. Mine I have placed beyond question, seeing that I am prepared to drag my Genius in the dust before Your Pride and the Arrogance of Your Caste. An Artist is a Slave of his Sensibilities, and I feel that if, in the near Future, I could see a Vision of your perfect hand resting content in mine, if, when You pleaded again for my Lord Stour, You did so as my promised Wife—not his—I would do all that You asked."
She drew herself up to her full height and glanced at him with all the Pride which awhile ago had seemed crushed beyond recall.
"Sir Actor," she said coldly, "shame had gripped me by the throat, or I should not have listened so long to such an Outrage. The Bargain You propose is an Infamy and an Insult."
And she gathered up her Skirts around her, as if their very contact with the Soil on which he trod were a pollution. Then she half turned as if ready to go, cast a rapid glance at the Shrubberies close by, no doubt in search of her Attendant. Why it was that she did not actually go, I could not say, but guessed that, mayhap, she would not vacate the Field of Contention until quite sure that there was not a final Chance to soften the Heart of the Enemy. She had thrown down yet another Challenge when she spoke of his proposed Bargain as an Infamy; but he took up the Gage with the same measured Calm as before.
"As you will," he said. "It was in Your Ladyship's name that the Earl of Stour put upon Me the deadliest Insult which any Man hath ever put on Man before. Since then, every Fibre within Me has clamoured for Satisfaction. My Work hath been irksome to me ... I scarce could think ... My Genius lay writhing in an agony of Shame. But now the hour is mine—for it I have schemed and lied—aye, lied—like the low-born cur You say I am. A thousand Devils of Hate and of Rage are unchained within me. I cannot grapple with them alone. They would only yield—to your kiss."
"Oh!" she cried in uttermost despair, "this is horrible!"
"Then let the Man you love," he rejoined coldly, "look to himself."