Lady Jocelyn was human enough to like to be appreciated. She was a veteran Pagan, and may have had the instinct that a peculiar virtue in this young one was the spring of his conduct. She stood up and said: 'Don't forget that you have a friend here.'
The poor youth had to turn his head from her.
'You wish that I should tell Rose what you have told me at once, Mr.
Harrington?'
'Yes, my lady; I beg that you will do so.'
'Well!'
And the queer look Lady Jocelyn had been wearing dimpled into absolute wonder. A stranger to Love's cunning, she marvelled why he should desire to witness the scorn Rose would feel for him.
'If she's not asleep, then, she shall hear it now,' said her ladyship.
'You understand that it will be mentioned to no other person.'
'Except to Mr. Laxley, madam, to whom I shall offer the satisfaction he may require. But I will undertake that.'
'Just as you think proper on that matter,' remarked her philosophical ladyship, who held that man was a fighting animal, and must not have his nature repressed.
She lighted him part of the way, and then turned off to Rose's chamber.