His penitence seemed to subdue her indignation. "Foolish boy!" she said with one of her rarely beautiful smiles. "I know perfectly well, and therefore it is that I forgive this impertinence. A little experience of the world will teach you your mistake. Three days ago I read in your young frank face that you judged me rightly, and I thanked you in my heart. I will not retract the judgment I formed of you then; but remember, what you have done is foolish and ought never to be repeated."
"I know it—I know it," moaned Arthur; "but may I never see you again? Ah! if by any service, however hard, I could make you happier than you are!"
She put out her hand, smiling kindly into his earnest face: "The best service you can render me now is to shake hands and say good-bye. As I said to you before, we move in different worlds. You will soon forget this infatuation, or only remember it as a warning against taking any advantage, however slight, of an unprotected woman. In that case I shall have rendered you a service."
Where was Captain Mordaunt's wisdom? Banished by a few words from a weak but noble woman. Happy for Arthur that the fair face hid a fairer soul! The poison was drawn out of his heart, and youth's own chivalry took its right place in his nature.
Bowing low over the offered hand, he answered in a broken voice, "I obey you, and I thank you. I cannot promise to forget, but from this time all my thoughts of you shall be tinged by the deep respect which is your due."
[CHAPTER IX.]
ARTHUR'S SECRET.
And I loved her—loved her, certes,
As I loved all heavenly objects, with uplifted eyes and hands—
As I loved pure inspiration, loved the Graces, loved the Virtues,
In a love content with writing his own name on desert sands.