“Oh, my God!” moaned Stella, wringing her hands; “I never knew it till this moment. You have brought it home to me; you, yes, you!” and she burst out weeping.
“Here are the hysterics,” thought the Colonel, “and I am afraid that the headache will be bad to-morrow morning.”
To her, however, he said very tenderly, “My dear girl, my dear girl, pray do not distress yourself. These little accidents will happen in the best regulated hearts, and believe me, you will get over it in a month or two.”
“Accident!” she said. “It is no accident; it is Fate!—I see it all now—and I shall never get over it. However, that is my own affair, and I have no right to trouble you with my misfortunes.”
“Oh! but you will indeed, and though you may think the advice hard, I will tell you the best way.”
She looked up in inquiry.
“Change your mind and marry Stephen Layard. He is not at all a bad fellow, and—there are obvious advantages.”
This was the Colonel’s first really false move, as he himself felt before the last word had left his lips.
“Colonel Monk,” she said, “because I am unfortunate is it any reason that you should insult me?”
“Miss Fregelius, to my knowledge I have never insulted any woman; and certainly I should not wish to begin with one who has just honoured me with her confidence.”