Drake was silent a moment. The blood was rushing through his veins.
"Who told me? I heard—everybody said——"
He dropped into the chair and leaned forward, his face stern and set.
Falconer smiled as grimly as Drake could have done.
"What everybody says is rarely true, my lord. We are not betrothed."
"You don't——" exclaimed Drake.
A worm will turn if trodden on too heavily. Falconer turned. His face grew hot, his dark eyes flashed.
"Yes, my lord, I love her!" he said, and the lowness of his voice only intensified its emphasis. "I love her so well—so madly, if you like—that I choose to set conventionality at defiance, and speak the truth. I love her, but I can never win her, because there is one who comes between her and me. Wait!"—for Drake had risen, and was gazing down at the wan face with flashing eyes. "I do not know who he is. She has never uttered a word to guide me; but I can guess. Wait a moment longer, my lord! Whoever he may be, he is not worthy of her; but she cares for him, and that is enough for me, and should be enough for him. If I were that man——"
He stopped, for his breath had failed him. Drake leaned over him as if he would drag the conclusion of the sentence from him.
"If I were that man, I'd strive to win her as I'd strive for heaven! Ah, it would be heaven!" His lips twitched, and he turned his face away for a moment. "I would count everything else as of no account. I would thrust all obstacles aside, would go through fire and water to reach her——"