‘My own!’ said Lord Montfort, as he seated himself by her on the sofa, and took her hand.
Miss Temple was calm; but he would have been a light observer who had not detected her suppressed agitation.
‘Dearest Digby,’ she continued, ‘you are so generous and so kind, that I ought to feel no reluctance in speaking to you upon this subject; and yet it pains me very much.’ She hesitated.
‘I can only express my sympathy with any sorrow of yours, Henrietta,’ said Lord Montfort. ‘Speak to me as you always do, with that frankness which so much delights me.’
‘Let your thoughts recur to the most painful incident of my life, then,’ said Henrietta.
‘If you require it,’ said Lord Montfort, in a serious tone.
‘It is not my fault, dearest Digby, that a single circumstance connected with that unhappy event should be unknown to you. I wished originally that you should know all. I have a thousand times since regretted that your consideration for my feelings should ever have occasioned an imperfect confidence between us; and something has occurred to-day which makes me lament it bitterly.’
‘No, no, dearest Henrietta; you feel too keenly,’ said Lord Montfort.
‘Indeed, Digby, it is so,’ said Henrietta very mournfully.
‘Speak, then, dearest Henrietta.’