"But, surely, any woman who could connect herself with so dishonourable an affair, as I imagine this to be, is no fit wife for you. Give me your word you'll break with her once and for all."
"I've sources of information about Darcy which, as I have said before, I'm not at liberty to reveal, but forty-eight hours may loose my tongue. If I could tell Miss Fitzgerald what I know, she might throw him over even now, for I still hope she's only his dupe. Give me two days to prove her innocent; if I fail—I'll do what you please."
Kent-Lauriston reluctantly acquiesced, and Stanley, putting the incriminating letters carefully in an inside pocket, bade him good-night, and left the smoking-room. In the hall he met Lady Isabelle.
"I don't know what you'll think of me for coming to you, Mr. Stanley," she said, "after what has passed this evening."
"I think myself an infernal ass, for I've found out the truth of the matter since I left you, and I think you're very good to overlook it, and very condescending to speak to me at all."
"Do not let us talk of that," she said.
"Agreed," he replied. "Only permit me to say, I'd the parson's solemn assurance that he'd not married you, and, however unadvisedly I may have spoken, I spoke in good faith."
"I quite understand," she returned. "But now you know the truth."
"I do, and I'm very much ashamed of myself."
She smiled, a trifle sadly, and changed the subject abruptly, saying:—