“What is this?”
“’Tis the truth, Mr. Long. Only to-day there came to my ears the whisper of preparations for an abduction having your Miss Linley for its object—the hiring of relays of horses along the London road, and so forth. My woman, an honest creature, gave me the hint; she had the news in confidence.”
“And in confidence transferred it to you, no doubt.”
“I am not the woman to credit every rumour that the gossips of Bath set in circulation; but this special rumour was so circumstantial that——”
“Ah, if ’twas circumstantial its falsity is assured,” cried Mr. Long. “Dear madam, can you really believe that Dick Sheridan would make the attempt to run away with Miss Linley when he is still under an engagement to marry you?”
“Psha, sir!” she cried, “I know but too well that his heart is still with Miss Linley. Would my gentleman be so ready to answer my beck and call—would he be so desperately punctilious in his discharge of all the duties of lovership in respect to me, if he were not in love with Miss Linley? Mr. Long, the husband who is punctilious in his treatment of his wife is, you may be sure, not in love with her, and the lover who—— Ah, sir! I have had my experiences, Heaven help me! and I am now in the position of the doctor who knows the condition of a patient the moment he looks into his face. Sir, I have had my finger on Dick Sheridan’s pulse, so to speak, for the past week, and though he has tried hard to deceive me into the belief that he loves me, he has not succeeded. I have seen through his attentions—his constant show of devotion. O sir, I am a miserable woman! But I cannot lose him—I swear to you that I shall not lose him! And you—would you be content to lose her—to lose Elizabeth Linley?”
“I would be content to lose her if I were sure that she did not love me,” said Mr. Long.
“What? what? Ah, you do not love her!” she cried contemptuously.
“I love her so well as to have implicit confidence in her,” said he. “There will be no running away so far as Miss Linley is concerned—rest assured of that, my dear madam, and take my word for it, Dick Sheridan is too honourable to entertain such a design.”
“Ah, honourable! what does honour mean to a man when he is in love—ay, or to a woman either?” she cried.