"In that case," returned Mr. Escourt, "I will e'en take her for my patron saint; hang up her picture in my room, if I can get it; and say, like Romeo, I'll turn, fair saint, idolater to thee!"
As he said these words, I gave this hateful man a look of mingled scorn and disgust. He returned it with a steady gaze of insulting pertinacity, and said—
"Kill me not with a look, fair lady; for though lovely is the light of a dark eye in woman, it is also wondrous strong, and can deal wounds which time may not heal."
"It speaks," I replied, "what time cannot change, nor flattery
avert."
"Indeed," he rejoined, "are its decrees so unchangeable?"
After a pause he continued—
"Mr. Lovell is an excellent husband, is not he? and amiable in all the relations of life? He is your uncle by marriage, I believe? It is touching to see his devotion to you in that character."
The calm insolence with which this was said stung me to the quick, and I answered with vehemence—
"He is at least neither a liar nor a hypocrite; and it would have been well for him had he never fallen in with either."
Not a muscle of Mr. Escourt's face moved; and, with a bland smile, he said—
"Your remark is just, fair depositary of your adopted uncle's secrets. Your descriptions of character are admirable, refined in their conception, and bold in their execution—very bold indeed. This last specimen shall remain engraved in my memory. It fully deserves it."