“I thought it right to say to you, Ruthy, that I think you were correct about—about Captain Glen.”
“That he was not guilty, as you imagined?” cried Ruth eagerly.
Marie bowed her head, and she felt a strange constriction of the heart on seeing the bright animation in Ruth’s countenance—a suggestion of the pain that she was in future to feel; but she mastered her emotion, and Ruth went on:
“I am so glad, you cannot think!” she said.
“Why?” said Marie, in a cold, hard voice, which made Ruth colour highly; but she spoke out.
“Because it seemed so cruel to one who always was kind and chivalrous and—”
She stopped short with a curiously puzzled look gathering upon her brow, for it now occurred to her that Marie must be angry with herself for casting off Marcus Glen, but she could not read it in her eyes, while the puzzled look deepened as Marie said quietly:
“I am very glad, Ruthy—very glad to feel that I was not mistaken in him, and that he is indeed the true gentleman we believed.”
Ruth took a stool and placed it at Marie’s feet, seating herself there and clinging to her hand, while her cousin softly stroked her hair, vowing to herself the while that if Ruth cared for Marcus Glen, no jealous pang should hinder her from aiding in bringing them together, and no act of hers should be such as would be traitorous to Lord Henry, her confiding husband.
“Why do you look at me so strangely, Ruthy?” said Marie at last.