"How strange it is, Cora," she whispered, as they sat hand in hand, "that one impulse leads me still to love Newton, and yet another impulse lures me to hate him! Where is my constitutional, and where are my family pride and womanly modesty, when I stoop to an act like this, and drag you, poor child, into it, too? Oh, I must love him very much surely—and you, Cora—you——"
"I love him, too," was the calm and breathless response, under the closely-drawn veil.
"Of course you do—he is your cousin, and your old playmate."
Cora assented only by a little sigh.
They both, it appeared afterwards, hoped desperately that Berkeley might yet be mistaken in the whole affair, so far as I was concerned, for they felt bitterly the truth of the maxim, that "faith once destroyed is destroyed for ever, unless in a heart which is in itself intrinsically faithless."
In the dusk tears rolled unseen down the gentle face of Cora; but Louisa suppressed all appearance of emotion by biting her nether lip, and clenching her little white teeth, like the heroine of a French melodrama.
"Here we are at last! Hush! let us approach softly," said Berkeley, as they drew near the little cottage where Miss Auriol resided; and he turned the phaeton into a grassy lane, and between high hedges close by; threw open a private wicket, and assisted Cora to alight; but disdaining the assistance of his proffered arm, Lady Louisa sprang to the ground alone.
"This way—follow me, and softly, if you please," said Berkeley, as he drew forth a private latch-key for the back door—a means of entrance possessed by himself alone—and they traversed the little flower-garden which lay around the cottage.
My horse stood at the front door, with his bridle fastened to the porch; and to this circumstance he took care to draw their attention.
"It is Norcliff's black nag—his cover hack with the white star on the counter. You—aw—recognise it, ladies?" he whispered.