"That is not the point," she said. "You do not want to marry a girl who not only does not love you, but who does, with all her heart and soul, love some one else?"
"Why, of course not," he replied, and a frightened look came for the first time into his blue eyes. He turned and faced me.
"Of course not," he repeated, his eyes still devouring mine; "but Westenra cares for nobody, I never saw a girl less of a flirt in the whole course of my life. It is not to be supposed that such a very pretty girl should not have men fall in love with her, but that is neither here nor there."
"You ask her yourself," said the Duchess; "I think from your face that you seem a very honest good sort of man; you are a publisher, are you not?"
"Yes, Madam, I publish books, bright, entertaining books too."
"I repeat that you seem a very honest upright sort of man, who sincerely loves my young friend, and honestly wishes to do his best for her, but I think you will find that there is more behind the scenes than you are aware of, and, in short, that Westenra ought to tell you the truth. Tell him the truth now, Westenra."
"Yes, tell me now, Westenra," he said; "tell me the truth;" and he faced me once more, and I forced myself to look into his eyes.
"I know you don't love me just yet," he continued, "but it will come some day."
"I will do my very best to love you," I answered; "I will try to be a good wife to you, Albert."
"Ay, ay—how sweetly you say those words. May I hold your hand?"