‘The deuce!’ said Sir Lucius, alarmed.
‘Oh! no! make yourself easy,’ said Mrs. Dallington, smiling; ‘no counterplot, I assure you, although really you do not deserve to succeed.’
‘Then who is it?’ eagerly asked Sir Lucius.
‘You will not let me speak. The young Duke——’
‘Damn the Duke!’
‘How impatient you are, Lucy! I must begin with the beginning. Well, the young Duke has something to do with it.’
‘Pray be explicit.’
‘In a word, then,’ said Mrs. Dallington, in a low voice, but with an expression of earnestness which Sir Lucius had never before remarked, ‘I am in love, desperately in love, with one whom hitherto, in accordance with your wishes, I have been driving into the arms of another. Our views, our interests are opposite; but I wish to act fairly, if possible; I wish to reconcile them; and it is for this purpose that I have summoned you this morning.’
‘Arundel Dacre!’ said Sir Lucius, quietly, and he rapped his cane on his boot. The blood-red spot again rose in his companion’s cheek.
There was silence for a moment. Sir Lucius would not disturb it, and Mrs. Dallington again spoke.