His face glowed, and a strange brightness—the glow of hope—shone in his eyes.
"Take care!" he said huskily. "You—you use words lightly, perhaps unthinkingly——"
Nell laughed, with a kind of weary irritation.
"I am telling you the truth; I am trying to open your eyes," she said. "She loves you."
"Why—why do you think so? Have you ever heard her address a word to me that had a note of tenderness in it?"
"Have you ever addressed such a word to her?" retorted Nell.
He started, and gazed at her confusedly.
"You have always treated her as if she were a mere acquaintance, some one who was of no consequence to you. Oh, yes, you have been polite, kind, in a way, but not in a way a woman wants. I am only a girl, but—but"—she thought again of Drake, of her own love story, and her lips trembled—"but I have seen enough of the world to know that there is nothing which will hurt and harden a woman more than the 'kindness' with which you have treated her. I think—I don't know, but I think if I cared for a man, I would rather that he should beat me than treat me as if I were just a mere acquaintance whom he was bound to treat politely. And did you think that it was she who was to show her heart? No; a woman would rather die than do that. It is the man who must speak, who must tell her, ask her for her love. And you haven't, have you, Lord Wolfer?"
He put his hand to his brow and bit his lips.
"God forgive me!" he murmured. Then he looked at her steadily. "Yes, you have opened my eyes! Heaven grant that I may see this thing as you see it! Heaven grant it! My dear"—his voice shook with his gratitude—"where—where did you learn this wisdom, this knowledge of the human heart?"