“He made him a lottery cavalier,” rejoined Mr. Trevor calmly.
Betty smiled scornfully. “And for such a king men have died!” she said significantly.
“Ingratitude is only human at the worst,” he replied, laughing softly, “and you know, ‘the king can do no wrong!’”
Lady Betty put her finger on her lip, with a glance toward the card-players.
“You are right,” he said, regardless of her caution, “’tis quite useless to die for any king. There is only one thing worth dying for, and that—is supremely worth living for, too.”
“And it is not a king?” she commented thoughtfully, “or a queen?”
“A queen, yes,” he admitted, “but the queen of hearts. The only thing worth living for,” he said, and his voice grew deep and tender, “and dying for, my Lady Clancarty, is—Love.”
She blushed and her eyes fell. He had the most compelling glance she had ever encountered. Those eyes of his would enthrall hers, and she looked away.
“I never heard of any man dying of it,” she remarked, with a bitter little laugh.
“That’s because a wise man would rather live for it,” he said; “what exquisite torment for a man to die and leave it behind him—in the shape of a lovely widow.”