“I didn’t mean any harm,” said Gwendolyn, coloring.
“Exactly; nor did Nora. But Lady Teignmouth means a good deal of harm. She has the most insatiable vanity of any woman I ever knew, and would quite have enjoyed that affair at Turoy as a tribute to her charms, if only it could have been proved that Mr. Belmont committed suicide in despair.”
“Oh! then, you are convinced at last that Mr. Belmont was Lady Teignmouth’s lover, and not mine.”
“Perfectly; for ‘putting that an’ that thegither,’ as the Scotch say, I see the whole case clear before me. Lady Teignmouth meant to make a fool of me—not because I was particularly desirable, but because she looked upon all men as her legitimate prey. When she found that you had saved her the trouble she felt very spiteful, and longed to make a breach between us. I am convinced now that the person I saw at Preston Station was Lady Teignmouth, although she did get into a third-class carriage, and assumed a regular Northern burr on purpose to divert my suspicions. She kept me to luncheon after she had given me your address, because she did not want me to reach Turoy until she was ready to receive me.”
“But I should have fancied you would have been in her way there.”
“No; because she wanted to kill two birds with one stone—get rid of a lover whose ardor was growing troublesome and compromising, and disenchant me. I must say that she is a consummate actress, and managed things very cleverly.”
“Too cleverly, I think,” answered Lady Gwendolyn.
“But you will admit, dearest, that if you go in for that sort of thing you may as well do it nicely.”
“In fact, if you are a rogue at all, you may as well be——”
“A good rogue,” put in Colonel Dacre, laughing.