"But do you realise the position in which you place me with Miss Fitzgerald?" he protested, unwilling to believe his ears.
"Perfectly—only too keenly," she replied. "The knowledge that I've wronged you in her estimation is the bitterest part of the whole matter. I feel it much more than my own position in the affair."
"And knowing this you can still refuse to interfere in my behalf, when a word from you would set all right."
"I deeply regret it, Mr. Stanley, but I must."
He stood looking at her for a moment in the deepest scorn. Had he sacrificed himself for a woman like this?
"Don't think too hardly of me," she pleaded; "believe me, I have reasons."
"I've only this to say, Lady Isabelle," he replied coldly. "Until you absolve me from the unfortunate position in which your foolishness and weakness have placed me, my good name, my honour, and my future prospects are in your hands. Your conscience should tell you how far you have the right to trifle with them," and turning on his heel he left the conservatory.
After the departure of the Secretary, Lady Isabelle lost no time in seeking out Miss Fitzgerald, who had retired to her chamber.
To pursue a woman who believes that you have cruelly wronged her was a bold undertaking, but if she could not assure the Secretary that she would right him in his lady's eyes, her duty, under the circumstances, was all the more imperative to do so without delay; so summoning all her courage to her aid, she ascended to Miss Fitzgerald's chamber, and knocked timidly; so timidly, indeed, that at first she was not heard, and was compelled to knock again.
"Come in," called Belle.