“Tell me at once, madam, what do you mean by this surprise? I know all your skill in accidents,—what does this one portend?”
“You are too flattering, sir, believe me,” said she, with an easy smile. “I have plotted nothing,—I have nothing to plot,—at least, in which you are concerned. The unhappy bond that once united us is loosed forever; but I do not see that even harsh memories are to suggest bad manners.”
“I am no stranger to your flippancy, madam. You have made me acquainted with all your merits.”
“You were going to say virtues, George,—confess you were?” said she, coquettishly.
“Gracious mercy, woman! can you dare—”
“My dear Mr. Ogden,” broke she in, gently, “I can dare to be that which you have just told me was impossible for you,—forgetful and forgiving.”
“Oh, madam, this is, indeed, generous!” said be, with a bitter mockery.
“Well, sir, it were no bad thing if there were a little generosity between us. Don't fancy that all the forgiveness should come from you; don't imagine that I am not plaintiff as well as defendant.” Then, suddenly changing her tone to one of easy indifference, she said, “And so your impression is, sir, that the Cabinet will undergo no change?”
She looked hurriedly round as she spoke, and saw Sir William Heathcote coming rapidly towards them.
“Sir William, let me present to you Mr. Ogden, a name you must be familiar with in the debates,” said she, introducing them.