"Well?"
"That first love fell dead--you know when! Ambition, the passion that supplied its place, was sufficient for a time to absorb all my thoughts, hopes, and energies. But, to a certain extent it has been gratified, and it suffices me no longer. My heart wants some one to love, and turns to one to whom it owes gratitude, but whom it would sooner meet with a warmer feeling. Are you not well, Lady Caroline?"
"Quite well, thanks, and--and interested. Pray go on!"
"To go on is difficult. It is so horrible in a man to have to say that he sees he has awakened interest in a woman, that she shows all unknowingly to herself, but still sufficiently palpable, that he is the one person in the world to her, that she rejoices in his presence, and grieves at his absence; worst of all, that all, this is pointed out to him by other people----"
Lady Caroline's cheeks flushed as she echoed the words, "Pointed out to him by other people!"
"Exactly. That's the worst of it. However, all this being so, and my feelings such as I have described, I presume I shouldn't be repeating my former error--inviting a repetition of my previous fate--in asking her to be my wife?"
"I--I should think not." The flush still in her cheeks. "Do I know the lady?"
"Do you know her? No one knows her so well!" The flush deeper than ever. "Ah, Lady Caroline, kindest and dearest of friends, why should I keep you longer in suspense? It is Maude Creswell!"
Her face blanched in an instant. Her grasp tightened rigidly over the arm of the chair on which it lay, but she gave no other sign of emotion. Even her voice, though hollow and metallic, never shook as she repeated the name, "Maude Creswell!"
"Yes. Maude Creswell! You are surprised, I see, but I don't think you will blame me for my choice! She is eminently ladylike, and clever, and nice, and----"