Miss Challoner turned quite pale at this awful pronouncement, and sat weakly down on the couch. “But this is dreadful, sir!” she said. “You are speaking in anger, in a way that you will regret when you have had time to reflect.”
“Madam, I speak not from anger but from infinite relief. Whether you choose to accept of my offer or not my betrothal to Miss Marling is at an end. I shall not conceal from you that I fancied myself to be much in love with her; nor shall I insult your intelligence by pretending an ardour for yourself which I can naturally have had no time to acquire. If you will be content with my respect and deep regard, ma’am, I shall count myself fortunate to have secured the hand of one whose character and conduct command my sincere admiration.”
“But it is impossible!” Mary said, still feeling dazed. “Surely, surely all cannot be at an end between you and Juliana?”
“Irrevocably, ma’am!”
“Oh, I am sorry!” Mary said pitifully. “As for your offer, indeed I thank you, but how should we two wed without love, or even acquaintance?”
He said seriously: “At any other time, ma’am, such haste would be strange indeed. But your situation being what it is, you are bound to seek refuge in wedlock with all possible speed. Ma’am, allow me to speak with a plainness you may deem impertinent; I think you, as well as I, come to this marriage with a bruised heart. Forgive me, Miss Challoner, but having watched you I could not but suspect that you are not indifferent to my Lord Vidal. I do not inquire what are the reasons that induce you to refuse his suit; I say only, each of us is disappointed: let us endeavour, together, to heal our separate hurts.”
She covered her face with her hands. She was so taken by surprise that her brain reeled. Here indeed was the answer to her prayer, yet all she could say was: “Please leave me. I must think, sir; I cannot answer you now. I know that I ought to refuse your offer, but such is the hopelessness of my position that I dare not even do that without a pause for calm reflection. I must see Juliana; I can scarcely believe that all is indeed as you say.”
He picked up his hat at once. “I will withdraw, ma’am. Pray think well over what I have said. I shall remain at my present lodging until noon to-morrow, then, if I do not hear from you, I shall depart from Paris. Permit me to wish you good night.” He bowed, and left the room, and after a few moments Miss Challoner rose, and went slowly up to her bedchamber.
She heard her hostess and Miss Marling come in an hour later, and presently got up out of her bed, and slipped on a dressing-gown, and went to scratch softly on Juliana’s door. Juliana called to her to come in. A sleepy tirewoman was undressing her, and closely as she scrutinized the vivid little face Mary could perceive nothing in it but a natural weariness. “Oh, is it you, Mary?” Juliana said. “You should have come; it was vastly entertaining, I do assure you.” She began to chatter of the people she had met, and the dresses she had seen. Her eyes were bright and hard, her good spirits perhaps rather feverish, but she deceived her friend. She sent the abigail to bed when her dress was safely hung in the wardrobe, her jewels locked up, and her hair brushed free of powder, and Mary ventured to ask whether Mr. Comyn had been at the ball.
Juliana jumped into bed, saying: “Oh, don’t speak to me of that man! I cannot conceive how I was ever fool enough to fancy myself in love with him. ’Tis all over between us; you cannot imagine how glad I am!”