“Oh no, no, I do not!” cried Ruth. “I only speak because I am sure Captain Glen is too good and honest a gentleman to behave as you have said.”
“Perhaps so,” said Marie coldly, as she caressed and smoothed Ruth’s beautiful hair. “But you must not let this advocacy of yours win you too much to Captain Glen’s side.”
“What do you mean?” cried Ruth, flushing.
“I mean that he is not to be trusted, and that it would be a severe blow to me if I found that you had been listening to him, as might be the case, when I am not near to take care of and protect you.”
“Oh, pray. Marie!” cried Ruth, with her face like crimson, “don’t talk like that. Oh no, no! I could never think of anyone like that if he had been your lover, Marie, which he is.”
“Clotilde’s lover—my lover—your lover—any handsome woman’s lover. Oh! Ruthie!” said Marie scornfully, “let us be too womanly to give him even a second thought. There, it is all over. Dear Lord Henry was so tender and kind to me,” she continued lightly. “He was as bad as you, though, at first.”
“How as bad as I?” said Ruth.
“He wanted to fetch that man to give place to him. To make me happy, he said.”
“There!” cried Ruth excitedly; “and he is right. Lord Henry is so wise and good, and he must know.”
“He is one of the best and noblest of gentlemen,” said Marie, throwing back her head and speaking proudly, “and I’ll try to make him the truest and best of wives.”