'Ah, how happy you have made me, I never thought such honours were in store for me,' exclaimed Mrs. Scully. The discipline of years was lost in a moment; and, reverting to her long-buried self, she clasped the Marquis to her agitated bosom. Violet looked annoyed, ashamed; and Mrs. Scully, whom excitement had stripped of all her grand manners, said:
'And now, me dear children, I'll leave you to yerselves.'
The lovers sat side by side. Violet thought of the great love she had inspired, and the Marquis of the long years of happiness that would—that must now be his, of the frail grace that as a bland odour seemed to float about his beloved. And now that she was his, he would have her know that his love of her rose out of his deepest sense of soul; but words were weak: he seemed to be tongue-tied.
'Where did you dine to-night?' she said suddenly.
'With the Bartons.'
He told her everything—of the proposal and the invitation to
Brookfield.
'And are you going down to Galway to stay with them?'
'Of course not. How can you ask such a question?'
'And why not—why shouldn't you go? I wish you would,' she added; and the light in her grey eyes was malign.
'You're joking? You surely don't mean what you say. I thought you said you loved me.'