Colonel Dacre had not forgotten his appearance, and drew his portrait accurately enough.
Lady Gwendolyn’s head sank lower and lower on her breast.
“And he told you he had been poisoned?” she asked.
“Yes; and a man does not lie at such a time.”
“He might have been mistaken,” she said, under her breath.
“Impossible!”
“You would rather believe the worst, I see.”
“On the contrary, I would give my right arm to be able to trust you, Lady Gwendolyn,” he cried vehemently. “If I live to be a hundred years old I shall never have such a sorrow as this—to be forced to judge the woman I loved better than my life.”
He expected a disdainful smile, but none came. She only passed her hand over her brow, as if she were confused. Then, suddenly, her lips took a resolute fold, and she lifted her head boldly.
“He did not mention my name?” she said.