'I think you know why,' I replied. 'The change in my friend's circumstances has not changed my love for him. Do you know, Lorna, that he loves you like his own life?'
She was silent at this, and I went on, 'He spoke to you about it months ago; there in yonder footpath, not half a mile away,—he told you he had given his heart to you. It was madness then, madness,—because he had no name, no career, no position to offer you. His past lay in a mist,—indeed his past might have made it impossible for him to marry you, even if you had loved him. You refused him, told him that what he asked was impossible; but things have changed since then,—now he is a rich man's son,—he can come to you as an equal.'
'But—but——' and then noticing the curious look on her face, I blurted out:
'You're not going to marry Springfield, are you?'
'Yes,' she replied, 'I shall marry Colonel Springfield, if—if——but there,'—and she stopped suddenly,—'I think it is scarcely fair to discuss such things.'
After that she refused to talk about Springfield at all,—indeed I could not understand her. She seemed as though she had a great problem to solve, and was unable to see her way through it.
I had no opportunity of talking with my friend till the next day. His father and mother monopolized him so completely that there was no chance of getting a word alone with him. But when Lord Carbis informed me that he had made arrangements for Lady Carbis and his son to return home, I made my way to him.
'Do you feel well enough for a chat?' I asked.
'Oh, quite,' he replied. 'I was waiting all yesterday for an opportunity, but none came.'
'Edgecumbe,' I said,—'you will forgive me for still calling you that, won't you?—but for the life of me I can't fasten on that new name of yours.'