In spite of the confidence with which he had spoken this question staggered him. It had never occurred to him as possible that Mrs. O’Hara could care for him otherwise than he had said, and yet the suggestion made him uneasy. No man was ever less of a coxcomb, but he was not a fool, either, and this hint had opened his eyes. He began to recall things Mrs. O’Hara had said and done, her evident animus against Lady Gwendolyn, and a sudden, painful instinct of the truth began to dawn upon him.
A scarlet flush mounted to his brows, and he lowered his head under Lady Gwendolyn’s searching glance. He was so chivalrous naturally that it pained him to think Mrs. O’Hara had betrayed her secret, since this must needs be such a deep humiliation to a proud spirit like hers.
Finding he did not answer, Lady Gwendolyn repeated: “How do you know that?” as if she were determined to have an answer.
“One can’t always give a reason for the faith that is in one,” he returned evasively. “Anyhow, supposing what you say were true, I could not help Mrs. O’Hara’s feelings.”
“Unless you had encouraged them.”
“I have never considered it possible for any encouragement of this sort to come from a man. It is your privilege solely, and it would be horribly conceited of us to usurp it.”
“I do not see why a man should not be allowed to show that he appreciates the favor shown him if he really does so.”
“That is a different thing to giving encouragement, as you call it. I like Mrs. O’Hara for old association’s sake; we have always been upon very cordial terms since her marriage to my friend; but as to anything else, I declare on my honor it has never so much as entered my head.”
“If it had, it is no affair of mine, Colonel Dacre,” she answered frigidly. “Mrs. O’Hara is lucky in having a friend, for she certainly needs somebody to give her good advice. It is not either usual or safe to make accusations you cannot prove. If she does me the honor of being jealous of me, and wishes to drive me out of England, she has gone the wrong way to work, for I mean to take a house in London, and live as much en evidence as possible. If Mrs. O’Hara or any one else can prove that I ever spoke to Mr. Belmont in my life, let them do so; but I think they must commence by this. One does not become terribly in love, frightfully jealous, and murderously angry with a perfect stranger, you know.”
“If Mrs. O’Hara finds that you and her brother were perfect strangers, she will withdraw her accusation, of course. And, meanwhile, being false, it need not trouble you.”