Lord Chandos looked at her with wonder and admiration; then he sighed deeply as he remembered why he had sought her. He sat down near her, the very picture of dejection and misery.
"Mother," he said, abruptly, "I have behaved like a villain and a coward. In what words am I to excuse myself?"
My lady's face darkened.
"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," she said. "Will you explain yourself?"
"I have perjured myself. I have broken the most solemn vows that a man could make. I have forsworn myself. Tell me in what words am I to tell my guilt, or excuse it?"
A contemptuous smile stole over the face of my lady.
"Are you troubling yourself about that tempestuous young person, Leone? Shame on you, when you have won the sweetest woman and the wealthiest heiress in England for your wife!"
His voice was broken with emotion as he answered her:
"I cannot forget that I believed her to be my wife once, and I loved her."
My lady interrupted him.