But his manner, instead of being all love and tenderness, was simply polite and friendly.
"Fitzhardinge," said the lady, "I perceive that you have allowed yourself to be prejudiced against me."
"Not prejudiced, Lady Cecilia," answered the guardsman; "but I confess that I am no longer under the influence of a blind passion. The conduct of your husband this morning was that of a man who was acting consistently with the circumstances which he explained, and not that of an individual who was playing a part in order to disguise the innate cowardice of his disposition. No, Cecilia—your husband is not a coward—whatever else he may be! And now one word relative to myself. So long as I believed that you made to me, as a proof of love, the generous sacrifice of conjugal fidelity,—so long as I believed that an affection for me alone induced you to violate your marriage-vow,—then the dream was sweet, though not the less criminal! But when I discovered that you made no sacrifice to me,—that you came not to my arms warm with a love that trembled at detection, but secure in the existence of a heartless compact with your husband,—then my eyes were opened, and I saw that Lady Cecilia Harborough had risked nothing of all that she had pretended to risk—sacrificed nothing of all that she had affected to sacrifice—for the sake of Captain Fitzhardinge! Thus the delusion was destroyed; and although our amour might be based upon more impunity than I had ever conceived, it would be the less sweet! The charm—the spell is broken!"
"And have you come here to tell me all this—to insult me with your moralisings?" demanded Lady Cecilia, the fire of indignation and wounded pride displacing the languid voluptuousness which had at first reigned in the expression of her eyes.
"No! not to insult you, Cecilia," answered the officer; "but to explain in an open and candid manner the motive which leads me to say: 'Let us forget the past, as it regards each other!'"
"Be it so," said Lady Cecilia, deeply humiliated, and now hating the handsome officer much more than she had ever liked him. "In that case, sir, we can have nothing more to say to each other."
Captain Fitzhardinge bowed, and withdrew.
Lady Cecilia fell back upon the sofa, murmuring, "Beaten—beaten! defeated in this hope!"
And tears came into her eyes.
But in a few moments she exclaimed, "How foolish is this grief! how useless this indignation! Sorrow and hatred are the consuming enemies of female beauty! Did I not say ere now that there were others in the world as rich, as handsome, and as confiding as Captain Fitzhardinge?"