While he yet gazed she began to recover. Her eyelids stirred and then slowly dawned from beneath the large black orbs that scarcely met his before they filled to overflowing with sorrow. Not a gleam of anger, not a whisper of reproach. Her lips and eyes spoke together no other language than the simple words: ‘I cannot leave you!’:
She rose feebly and with effort. The duke stretched out his hand to assist her. He held to her lips the scarcely tasted wine.
‘Mina,’ he said, ‘are you collected enough to hear me?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Then listen. I would much sooner give half, aye, the whole of my estates to Lord Hartford, than yourself! What I said just now was only to try you.’
Miss Laury raised her eyes and sighed like one awakening from some hideous dream, but she could not speak.
‘Would I,’ continued the duke, ‘would I resign the possession of my first love to any hands but my own? I would far rather see her in her coffin; and I would lay you there as still, as white, and much more lifeless than you were stretched just now at my feet before I would for threat, for entreaty, for purchase, give to another a glance of your eyes or a smile from your lips. I know you adore me now, Mina; for you could not feign that agitation, and therefore I will tell you what proof I gave yesterday of my regard for you. Hartford mentioned your name in my presence, and I avenged the profanation by a shot which sent him to his bed little better than a corpse.’
Miss Laury shuddered, but so dark and profound are the mysteries of human nature, ever allying vice with virtue, that I fear this bloody proof of her master’s love brought to her heart more rapture than horror. She said not a word, for now Zamorna’s arms were again folded round her, and again he was soothing her to tranquillity by endearments and caresses that far away removed all thought of the world, all past pangs of shame, all cold doubts, all weariness, all heart-sickness resulting from hope long deferred. He had told her that she was his first love, and now she seemed tempted to believe that she was his only love. Strong-minded beyond her sex; active, energetic, and accomplished in all other points of view, here she was as weak as a child. She lost her identity; her very life was swallowed up in that of another.
There came a knock to the door. Zamorna rose and opened it. His valet stood without.
‘Might I speak with Your Grace in the anteroom?’ asked Monsieur Rosier in somewhat of a hurried tone. The duke followed him out.