Although there was a certain insolence in her manner most men would have resented bitterly under the circumstances, he felt too sorry for her, and for himself, to resent what she said. She was casting away not only her happiness, but her safety, and he knew why. In his heart he felt sure that Lady Gwendolyn would have accepted him but for his unfortunate rendezvous with Mrs. O’Hara. He forgot that “trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ”; and she had seen him at Preston station making, as would seem, a very public display of his regard for the handsome widow.
And Lady Gwendolyn was one of those women who would forgive a blow better than she would forgive the least shadow of unfaithfulness. It was useless to make excuses, Colonel Dacre knew, for she would believe her own eyes better than his words; but he could not help saying, deprecatingly:
“I have done nothing to forfeit your confidence, Lady Gwendolyn; but if you do not like me, you are right to deny me. I had hoped different, for—for”—his voice breaking—“I have loved you very dearly. How much, you may, perhaps, know one of these days. I seem to have nothing to hope for in the world now, and yet I do not wish to leave it; because, dreary as my life must needs be, it may still be brightened over in a way by a glimpse of your face.”
“I should be sorry to think you would have no brightness beyond that,” she answered coldly. “But I am sure Mrs. O’Hara will take good care of you in every way.”
“Has it not occurred to you that Mrs. O’Hara and myself may never meet again after to-day?”
“Of course it has not,” she said. “There is nothing to prevent your spending the rest of your lives together.”
“Pardon me, there is one insurmountable impediment.”
She turned and looked at him with a sort of suppressed eagerness in her eyes; but she was too proud to question him outright. However, he saw that she wished him to tell her, and went on:
“The thing that stands in the way of such a consummation, and makes it impossible, is the disinclination on each side. Norah O’Hara, as I told you once before, could never be anything to me but my friend’s widow, and I could never be anything to her but her husband’s friend. I would go a long way to serve her, for the sake of old times; but as to marrying her——However, I ought not to speak in this way,” he added quickly. “Assuredly Mrs. O’Hara would not marry me if I wished it ever so much.”
“How do you know that?”