He did not remember to have said how much he loved her, or to have spoken of his love at all, but evidently she thought he had, and it came to the same thing.
"How pleased Lady Lanswell will be!" said the young heiress, after a time. "You will think me very vain to say so, but I believe she loves me."
"I am sure of it; who could help it?" he said, absently.
He knew that he had done wrong, he repented it, and made one desperate effort to save himself.
"Lady Marion," he said, hurriedly, "let me ask you one question. You have heard, of course, the story of my early love?"
He felt the trembling of her whole figure as she answered, in a low voice:
"Yes; I know it, and that makes me understand jealousy. I am very weak, I know, but if you had gone to England, I should have died of pain."
He kissed her again, wondering whether for his perfidy a bolt from Heaven would strike him dead.
"You know it," he said; "then tell me—I leave it with you. Do you consider that a barrier between us, between you and me? You shall decide?"
She knew so little about it that she hastily answered: