"A few months—an eternity!" exclaimed the earl. "Ah, how coldly you can speak of being away from me, while I was devoured by the pangs of jealousy lest some handsome American should win you from me."
"That is all nonsense!" said Azalia Brooke, quite haughtily; and Laurie Meredith sighed heavily, and thought that he had judged rightly. She was proud of her ancient name, and scorned the Americans who could point to no long line of ancestry.
"I am glad you think it is all nonsense, but you can't think how I have been hating these fellows over here, Miss Brooke. I had to come. And now that I'm here you won't send me away again as you did in London, will you? Oh, Azalia—"
Passionate words followed, words of love and entreaty. Lord Clive could be quite eloquent on the subject which occupied his heart, and there was one but a few feet away who envied him the privilege of wooing sweet Azalia Brooke, one who was almost maddened by jealous pain.
He listened intently for the girl's answer. It came low and sadly:
"I hoped you had given up all hope of me!"
"Never!" declared Lord Clive.
"I told you last winter that it was useless—I have no love to give you," said the sweet, musical voice, very gently.
"I will teach you to love me if you will only give me an opportunity!" protested Lord Clive.
The girl laughed, but the laugh had a mocking sound, so did her voice as she exclaimed: