“Near me? Yes, and hated and despised. I will call on Wiggins himself to help me. He was right; he said the time would come when I would be willing to trust him.”
“Trust him? What, that man? You don't know what he is.”
“And what are you, Captain Mowbray?”
“I? I am a gentleman.”
“Oh no,” said Edith, quietly, “not that—any thing rather than that.”
At this Mowbray's face flushed crimson, but with a violent effort he repressed his passion.
“Miss Dalton,” said he, “it is a thing that you might understand. The fear of losing you made me desperate. I saw in your flight the loss of all my hopes.”
“And where are those hopes now?”
“Well, at any rate, I have not altogether lost you. Let me hope that I may have an opportunity to explain hereafter, and to retrieve my character. Miss Dalton, a woman will sometimes forgive offenses even against herself, when she knows that they are prompted by love.”
“You seem to me,” said Edith, “to seek the affections of women as you do those of dogs—by beating them soundly.”