After all, he could not prove that Lady Gwendolyn had been the only person in the Grange that evening; and though the lady he had seen in the wood with Mr. Belmont resembled the other in figure and style, he remembered now that he had not seen her face, and had, therefore, no right to judge her.
How could he have been so cruel as not even to have given her the benefit of the doubt? And, after all, she might be innocent, poor darling!
He pressed her to his bosom with a passion of tenderness, as he murmured:
“Oh, my darling! You can never forgive me for having misjudged you so, and yet I loved you like a madman all the while.”
There was such a blessed rest in the love he proffered; and she yearned beyond words to gather it up to her heart. But believing him to be the husband of another woman, it was her duty to put this comfort away from her, and she dared not hesitate for conscience sake.
She withdrew one of his arms resolutely.
“You must try and get over your love,” she said, with evident effort; and the utter desolation of her face would have touched a heart of stone. “I will not take another woman’s just place.”
“Heaven forbid that I should be base enough to ask such a thing of you!”
“You are asking it now.”
“You would trust a madwoman rather than me?” he said reproachfully.