“Can you give us an introduction to the original, old fellow?” said Erskine.
“No, happily. She is dead.”
Disagreeably shocked, they looked at him for a moment with aversion. Then Erskine, turning with pity and disappointment to the picture, said, “Poor girl! Was she married?”
“Yes. To me.”
“Mrs. Trefusis!” exclaimed Sir Charles. “Ah! Dear me!”
Erskine, with proof before him that it was possible for a beautiful girl to accept Trefusis, said nothing.
“I keep her portrait constantly before me to correct my natural amativeness. I fell in love with her and married her. I have fallen in love once or twice since but a glance at my lost Hetty has cured me of the slightest inclination to marry.”
Sir Charles did not reply. It occurred to him that Lady Brandon’s portrait, if nothing else were left of her, might be useful in the same way.
“Come, you will marry again one of these days,” said Erskine, in a forced tone of encouragement.
“It is possible. Men should marry, especially rich men. But I assure you I have no present intention of doing so.”