"Ah!" Her sobs were arrested. She looked at him a moment, then gave a long sigh of slow-dawning comprehension.
"Yes, madame! Would you look upon me as worthy your contempt? Would you not rather be glad?"
"Yes! Yes!" she whispered eagerly.
"And for the rest," he continued gently, "'tis well enow, for Colonel Lovelace to write that love be little if honour be not more, yet there may be a love so self-forgetting that a man counts himself as nothing in comparison with it, and would gladly give his dearest part, even his honour, to serve his beloved. 'Twas with such a love, Lady Cicely, you loved your cousin, and by Heaven! she is worthy of it."
Cicely smiled and shook her head.
"These be somewhat indiscreet doctrines, sir," she said.
"Nay, madame, when was love noted for discretion?" he answered, smiling at her. "And, moreover, if your act were a betrayal, 'twas a right courageous one. I warrant me, 'twas no easy task for you, madame, to play the traitor."
She looked at him gratefully.
"How is it you understand so well?" she asked.
"I' faith, Lady Cicely," he answered with a sudden smile, "I fear me my record is not overclean. Not a month since, in this very room, I entered into a bargain, hardly consistent with my honour."