“No fear of that. I am not quite a stupid, Lawrence. And to show you I am not, I may just say that I don’t believe Lady Gwendolyn St. Maur had anything whatever to do with my poor brother’s death.”
Colonel Dacre could hardly restrain himself from seizing her hand, and covering it with kisses, by way of showing his gratitude for this speech.
“I don’t fancy he even knew her,” pursued Mrs. O’Hara decidedly. “But listen to me, Lawrence, beware always of a cold-blooded coquette. You have been lecturing me for my bad behavior, but I can assure you that I am as harmless as a dove in comparison with a woman like that. A cold-blooded coquette only cares for herself, and after having encouraged a man for her amusement, dismisses him with a sneer the moment his passion becomes dangerous, inconvenient, or stands in the way of a new conquest. Whereas, I am such a poor, foolish thing, that I always grow quite fond of a man who has been spooning me a week or two, and cry when I bid him good-by.”
“I honestly believe you are not half as bad as you seem,” returned Colonel Dacre, with a faint smile. “But tell me, Norah—you know it will not go any further—have you the least reason for suspecting any one of having caused your brother’s death?”
“If so, I have no right to speak of my suspicion,” she replied, with a reticence that surprised him; it was so entirely foreign to her character. “Come and see me at the ‘Langham’ a week hence, and I may be able to tell you something. But here we are at Preston.”
He helped her down, and they were standing rather close together, her hand in his as he bade her good-by, and expressed his hope that she would apply to him if she required any assistance, when a veiled face bent eagerly out of the window in the full light of a lamp. A gust of wind lifted the gauze just as the train began to move, and the woman drew back hastily; but not before Colonel Dacre had recognized Lady Gwendolyn.
CHAPTER XI.
“WHAT’S IN A NAME?”
Colonel Dacre dropped Mrs. O’Hara’s hand as if it had stung him, and darted forward mechanically, as if to catch up to the train; but his companion’s frightened exclamation restored him to himself.
“For mercy’s sake be careful!” she called out, grasping his arm. “If you have left anything in the train you can telegraph.”