Lady Elaine had become deadly pale.
“And do you expect me to listen to you, Margaret Nugent—to believe you?” she asked.
“Before Heaven, I swear that I am telling you simple truth, Lady Elaine! My cousin never really loved you as men are supposed to love women, and soon regretted the tangle he had woven about himself. To escape it, he stooped to trickery and dishonor. I alone am in his confidence. I alone know where he is wandering again. I have had a letter from him this very day. Even if you hate me for it, it is my duty to tell you the truth.”
“Heaven help me!” moaned Elaine. “I have given him my love—the love of my life—and I can never change! I worship the king of my dreams, not the wretched creature of clay that he has proved himself to be! And, now that I know the worst, I will school myself to wear a smile, though my heart is broken!”
It never occurred to her to doubt Miss Nugent’s words. Margaret had always been her friend, and there was no earthly reason why she should deceive her. Besides, everything pointed to the truth of the statement, and the mystery about Sir Harold was partly cleared away.
At Lady Gaynor’s ball she appeared to be one of the gayest of the gay, and my lord of Seabright was delighted.
“She has sense and pride, after all,” he thought. “Being a Seabright, it could not well be otherwise.”
She danced with several eligible men, but Viscount Rivington was the most favored of all, and his eyes burnt with triumph.
“The earl has told me to go in for rapid conquest,” he thought. “Hearts are easily caught in the rebound.”
He led Lady Elaine from the heated ballroom, and, seated in a conservatory, they listened to the singing of one of the lady guests: