‘So far from it that the knowledge of your presence there had made me reject such an offer though a thousand times more pressed.’
‘So, it was pressed?’
‘In a way—good-humouredly.’
‘By whom?’
‘By one that would do me a service—a friend.’
‘And me a dis-service, perchance?’
‘Your name was never mentioned between us, nor so much as thought on, by him, I’ll swear.’
‘How know you what was in his heart?’
‘I know something of his heart. It is a fine and generous one, incapable of perfidy. Besides, why should he think of you in this connexion of his offer, or suspect the truth? Be sure I have not told it him, nor any. I am not so enamoured of it. I protested I would not be a courtier; and he was fain to let it rest at that, ceasing to importune me when he saw I was resolved; implying I might be right—that it was no great matter after all—as indeed it was not.’
Believing what he said, he spoke with obvious sincerity—enough to convince even the dark suspicious nature of him that listened, and who had put these questions—with what intent?