‘Yes, quite,’ she answered, though with a sickening faint remembrance of a great deal of folly; ‘but what does it matter? It is over now on both sides, and we can remain good friends all the same. But I wish you would not make your intimacy with me quite so apparent before other people. It has been noticed by more than one person, and it places me in an unpleasant position. And if it is pointed out to Ilfracombe it might lead to something disagreeable.’
‘How?’ said her companion.
‘How? Why, by making a quarrel between my husband and myself, of course,’ replied Nora querulously.
‘And would you care about that? He couldn’t take your coronet from you for such a trifle, you know. Even those letters of yours—were they to come to light, he might rub rusty over them, but he couldn’t do anything. When a man marries a woman, he has to ignore all ante-nuptial indiscretions. He would make a jolly row, naturally, and you would have a hot time of it. But you are the Countess of Ilfracombe fast enough, and the Lord Chancellor himself couldn’t unmake you so.’
‘I know that,’ said Nora. ‘I don’t need you to tell me so. And there is no chance of Ilfracombe seeing the letters either. If you keep your word to me (as I conclude you will), I shall destroy them as soon as they are in my possession. I wish you would send for your dispatch-box, and give them to me at once. I should feel so much more comfortable.’
‘Why in such a hurry?’ said Mr Portland. ‘I am going home next week, and then you shall have them by registered post, honour bright. Won’t that satisfy you?’
‘Oh, yes, of course. And Mr Portland,’ added Nora rather nervously, ‘we agreed just now that it was all over, so you won’t mind my saying you think I care only for Ilfracombe’s title and fortune, and I daresay you are justified in thinking so—but—but it is not only that. He—he is so good to me, that I can’t help caring—I mean, it would be very ungrateful of me not to care, just a little.’
But here the young countess’s blushing, stammering confession was interrupted by her husband’s return.
‘Oh, here is Ilfracombe!’ she exclaimed, suddenly breaking off, and advancing to meet him, whilst Jack Portland thought to himself; ‘so the wind’s in that quarter now, is it? All the better for me; but I’m afraid her ladyship has sealed the fate of that interesting little packet. If love is to be brought into the bargain, those letters will become too valuable to me to part with. Why, I shall be able to turn and twist her, through their means, at my will.’