"I mean," he replied, "that circumstances have rendered me powerless to prevent Mr. Stanley's marrying you, if you allow him to do so."
"Tell me!——" she exclaimed abruptly.
"It's for that purpose that I've sought you out."
She nodded. She was watching him guardedly.
"I've admitted that our young friend was in love with you. I don't say you encouraged him, but you certainly excited his pity, a very dangerous proceeding with a person of his nature."
"What's all this to do with my position?"
"A great deal," resumed Kent-Lauriston. "You see, I want you to understand your hold over Mr. Stanley—it's really because he pities you." The girl flushed painfully. "Excuse me if I speak things which are unpleasant, but you most understand your weakness, and your strength. You've nearly ruined yourself by being too clever, and now, by the wildest stroke of luck, you're in a very strong position."
"Would you mind speaking plainly?"
"Certainly. In a word, the situation is just this. Within the last few days, Mr. Stanley has made three discoveries about you, which have gone far to destroy his sympathy for you, and make him believe that his pity or his love, as he chooses to call it, has been misplaced. Two of these discoveries I believe to be true; one—the worst—I know to be false. If he discovers how shockingly you've been maligned, he'll probably forget the past, and, in a burst of contrition at having so misjudged you, will do what his common sense forbids—I mean, marry you."
"You're really becoming interesting. I had underrated your abilities. Pray be more explicit," she said, quite at her ease at these reassuring words, and putting Kent-Lauriston down, mentally, as a fool for giving the game away, when he need only have kept silent to have had it all in his own hands.