CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE PRICE OF LOVE
"Have you come to insult me, Mr. Kent-Lauriston?"
Isabelle Fitzgerald stood in a wooded recess of the park, beside a young sapling; the one no more fair and tall and glorious with the joy of living than the other. Kent-Lauriston was beside her, hat in hand, with just the trace of a cynical smile about his parted lips; but serious enough with it all, well realising the gravity of the task he had undertaken, and pitying from his heart the fair girl who stood white and scornful before him, her garden hat hanging from its ribbon, unconsciously held in her hand.
"Have you come to insult me, Mr. Kent-Lauriston?" She said it defiantly, as if it were a gage of battle.
"I have come to apologise to you," he replied quietly.
"You tell me that he has sent you to me. Well, I know what that means. I knew why you came to the Hall, I would have stopped you if I could. You were my enemy, I felt it the moment I saw you. I knew you would have your way then. What chance had an unfortunate girl, whose only hope rested in the love of the man she loved, as against one who has made hundreds of matches, and broken hundreds of hearts? You owe me an apology you think—it is very good of you, I appreciate it deeply," and she made him an obeisance.
"I've not come to apologise to you for any point that I've gained, but for the means I must employ to gain it."
"Really," she said, her eyes blazing. "This is a condescension. Are not any means good enough to cope with an adventuress like myself—a young woman who is deterred by no conventions, and no maidenly reserve; whose every art and wile is strained to lure on to their fate weak and unsuspecting young men. Is it possible that such a person has any rights that need be respected?"
"Really, Miss Fitzgerald," said Kent-Lauriston, placidly, "you surprise me. In addition to the numerous virtues, which I'm confident you possess, I'd added in my own mind that paramount one, of cool clear-headedness. This lady, I had told myself, is at all events perfectly free from hysteria or nervous affections; she can discuss an unpleasant subject, if necessary, in its practical bearings, without flying into a fit of rage, and wandering hopelessly from the point. It appears that I was mistaken."