“Yes,” retorted Lord Ashley, “and is at this moment on his way to some place of security and oblivion. Now, I beg you to listen to me,” he continued with fervor. “I beseech you—I implore you—to put from your mind all further thought of this man, whose name is unworthy of mention in your presence. He has merited death, but has escaped with shame as his portion henceforth. Let us dismiss him from our thoughts. There is another and more honorable matter regarding which I would speak to you. Miss Brandon—Dorothy—I love you!”
“Milord——”
“Yes, I love you,” he continued, with the abandon of a man carried away by the force of his feelings, “and I offer you a union which the proudest woman in the realm might find worthy of acceptance. His Majesty, the King, has already signified to me that my appointment as Lord Chancellor is to be followed shortly by my elevation to the Peerage. In fact, I may confide to you that the form of such title has already been selected.”
“Milord, I——”
“Nay, hear me to the end,” he continued with passionate fervor; “it is more than mere title which I have to offer. As wife of a Lord Chancellor who will know how to extend the influence and power of his high office, you will find yourself in a position of social supremacy which will place you second only to the Queen herself. At a word from you, social careers will be made or marred; at a nod of approval from you, a fashion will spring into life, or be set aside. Men of the world and men of the Court will respect and fear your power, while women will fawn and flatter for your favor. Rank, title, power, influence—all these I offer you, and, moreover, boundless devotion and immeasurable love. What can I give more?”
He paused and waited. Dorothy sat with bowed head and shifting color and made no sign. Could this, Ashley wondered, be the silence of rejection, or was it merely the hesitation natural to maidenly reserve? Reared throughout his life among soldiers and statesmen possessed of aims and ambitions, himself possessed of a boundless lust for preferment and power, Lord Ashley’s tendency was to regard ambition as the all-alluring fetish, the resistless lever, with which to sway human impulse and human action. Furthermore, his actual experiences in his immediate surroundings had tended to impress him with the accuracy of this theory. What he had offered was sufficiently brilliant, as he had said, to be worthy of the acceptance of the proudest woman in the land. Nor had he overstated his case. He was really in a position to give all he tendered. She would surely not refuse! What woman would? At last she spoke.
“I fully realize, Milord, the extent of all you have been good enough to offer me,” she said, “and I appreciate the honor you do me. I am glad, too, to learn of the new distinctions which await you and pleased to be the first to congratulate you.”
“And you accept?” he cried joyfully, as he bent nearer to her. “You will say—yes?”
“No, no,” she exclaimed hastily, as she shrunk back; “I cannot—I cannot—accept.”
“You—cannot—accept!” he cried blankly. “And—why?”