"And if there had been?" she said.
"If there had been, why, you see, Dora, matters would have turned out very awkwardly for both of us."
"You are satisfied that there is not?"
"Yes, tolerably so. There is no lover here; I hear of none in the neighborhood. And you are not engaged to be married—that I do know!"
"How do you know?"
"Because I have made inquiries in the proper direction. I am, I may say, quite satisfied."
He could not tell the sensation of intense relief that came over her—the wild throbbing of her heart. She was safe then, so far, and could marry Earle. Half of the dread and fear she had felt faded away from her.
"I own," continued Lord Vivianne, "that I have suspected you unjustly. You deceived me once, and I fancied that you intended to deceive me again; you eluded me once, you will not elude me again?"
"You thought I was going to do so?"
"I thought your manner strange, your leaving London in the height of your triumph strange, your coming to this quiet, though beautiful country home strange."