I watched her, fair and stately, walking with swift, graceful steps along the gravel path. Then I turned my back upon the spot where she had vanished, and, leaning against the low iron gate, let my face fall upon my folded arms.
Of all the mental tortures which a man can undergo, what is there worse than the agony of self-reproach? To be condemned by another's judgment may seem to us comparatively a light thing—but to be condemned by our own, what escape or chance of escape can there be from that! And it seemed to me as though I were arraigned before the tribunal of my own conscience. As clearly as though indeed he stood there, I saw before me the bowed form, and unhappy face of my poor father, looking steadfastly at me out of his sad blue eyes, with the story of his weary suffering life written with deep lines into his furrowed face. And then I saw myself standing at the window of my rooms in Exeter, with an oath ringing from my lips, and a passionate purpose stirring my heart, and last of all I saw myself only a few minutes ago walking by her side with stirred pulses and bounding heart—by her side, whose father, curse him! was the man above all others whom I should hate—for was it not his lying word which had driven Herbert Devereux from his home, and blasted a life more precious to me than my own! At that moment a passionate longing came upon me to stand face to face with him, the man whom we had met in the moonlight on Exmoor, and tear the truth from his lying throat.
"Mr. Arbuthnot!"
I started violently and turned round pale and agitated with the rage which was burning within me. Maud Devereux stood before me—Maud, with the pride gone out from her exquisite face, and the warming light of a kindly sympathy shining out of her glorious eyes.
"I startled you, Mr. Arbuthnot?"
"I must confess that you did, Miss Devereux. I thought that I was alone."
I had drawn myself up to my full height, and was looking steadily at her, determined that neither by word nor look, would I yield to the charm of her altered manner. It was I now who was proud and cold; she who was eager and a little nervous.
"I had a message to deliver to you, and I forgot it," she said, hurriedly. "I was to ask you to dine with us to-night."
"Does Sir Francis particularly wish it?" I asked. "Because, if not, as I have had a long day, and am rather tired——"
She interrupted me, speaking with a sudden hauteur, and with all the coldness of her former manner.