“Then give her the chance,” answered his wife coldly.
And she told him the miserable story of Mr. Belmont’s death, unfalteringly asseverating that the unfortunate man had come to Turoy on Lady Gwendolyn’s account.
“They had a meeting in the wood the very night of his death, as some of the people hereabout can testify; and, of course, his sudden and mysterious fate has caused a great sensation. No one could suspect Gwendolyn of anything but an imprudence, as you say; but it’s the sort of imprudence that ruins a woman’s reputation, I am afraid. My own opinion is that Colonel Dacre followed Mr. Belmont to Turoy, and, finding him to be a successful rival, determined to get him out of the way. But this is pure conjecture, and nothing of the sort came out at the inquest.”
“Then there has been an inquest?” inquired Lord Teignmouth, who felt as if the ground were giving way beneath his feet.
“Oh, yes! and Gwendolyn gave her evidence with great dignity and propriety—she was sure to do that, you know. The inquest took place at four o’clock, having been delayed by the post-mortem examination, and it was proved that the unfortunate man died of poison, but by whom administered there was no evidence to show, and they gave an open verdict.”
Lord Teignmouth put his hand confusedly to his head. He was a man of sensitive honor, and the thought that his high-bred, beautiful sister had been mixed up in a painful story, that would soon be telegraphed from one end of England to the other, made him furious. Moreover, Mr. Belmont had always been looked upon as an adventurer, and careful people hardly cared to have him at their parties. Mrs. O’Hara herself had never acknowledged the relationship between them until her brother had come into a fortune, when he would have been useful, no doubt.
He turned to his wife, and spoke with angry decision:
“You did quite right to send for me. I would not have you remain in this neighborhood another day on any account. I shall go and see Gwendolyn, and tell her that my house is shut to her for the future, and she must make a home elsewhere. The only thing would be for her to marry, if she could find any idiot to take her. Anyhow, I am not going to have her name mixed up with yours. Thank Heaven she is my sister, and not my wife!”
“Thank Heaven, indeed!” she murmured, resting her dimpled chin on his shoulder, with a movement full of the most seductive grace. “But you know that, with all my faults, Reggie, I am not capable of that?”
“I begin to suspect all women,” he said gloomily. “Gwen and I were everything to each other in the days gone by, and I thought her so innocent and upright. If any one had dared to tell me she was carrying on a secret intrigue I would have knocked him down if he had been a man, so sure should I have felt that he lied miserably. But I suppose there is no doubting the fact now.”