“Lord Verner does not know that you were madly in love with his brother; that he cast you off.”
“No, no—how despicable!” said Amy.
“He cast you off, I say; that will be my story to Lord Verner. I shall tell him as a matter of duty. And something more too. Why is Mr. Hammerton here?”
“Because he is Earl Verner’s brother, of course, and this is his home when he is in England,” said the Countess.
“Because he is Lord Verner’s brother, poor fool! Because he is your lover, my sister!—your lover!”
An exclamation of pain escaped from Amy’s lips at the baseness of the insinuation conveyed in these words, and Lionel had almost rushed out to strangle her maligner on the spot; but discretion prompted him to remain where he stood.
“Oh, yes, it is very fine to assume an injured tone, but I saw him kiss you this morning—I saw him through the window. You cannot deny it. What will Lord Verner think of that? Eh, ma bonne sœur?”
“And this will be your story to Lord Verner,” said Amy, trembling with indignation, “if I do not find the money you ask for?”
“It will most assuredly,” said Richard.
“Then tell your story, sir—tell your story at once; I will rather throw myself upon Lord Verner’s love, the consciousness of my own innocence, and the honour of Lionel Hammerton, than buy your silence any longer, you miserable unscrupulous man,” said Amy; and then it seemed as if she hurried away, or as if they had passed within the old court-yard of the ruined castle.