“And why, fairest saint?”
“Do not ask me, my lord. Oh, Ernest! let me go, I am tired and sick, and very, very unhappy. Dearest Ernest, leave me, and never speak of this again.”
“As you will, Lady Maude,” he said, with a bow, turning haughtily away.
But a light touch, that thrilled to his very heart, was laid on his arm, and the low, sweet voice of Lady Maude said:
“I have offended you, my lord; pray forgive me.”
“I am not offended, Lady Maude Percy; neither have I anything to forgive,” he said; but his fine face was clouded with mortification. “You have rejected me, and I presume the matter ends there.”
“But you are offended, I can hear it in your voice. Oh, Lord Villiers, if you knew how unhappy I am, you would forgive me the pain I have caused you.”
Her tone touched him, and taking her hand gently, he said:
“It is I who should ask forgiveness, Lady Maude. Yes, I will accept the friendship you offer, until such time as I can claim a better reward. Notwithstanding all you have said, I do not despair still.”
He pressed her hand to his lips and was gone.