"It was when you were an American girl?" asked Lord Clive.
"Yes, before Lord Ivon sent Mr. Kelso to seek me," said Azalia Brooke. "And now you know why I despise love and lovers, Lord Clive. I have no faith in their protestations, because I know how to rate them."
"You do injustice to honest lovers for the sake of one traitor," he said, warmly. "Miss Brooke, he deserves death at the stake. Tell me his name that I may call him out and shoot him!"
A dreary, mocking laugh rippled over her lips as she answered, simply:
"Perhaps he is past your vengeance, Lord Clive. I heard long ago that he was dead."
"It is some comfort to know that he has gone to his reward," murmured Lord Clive, with grim satisfaction.
He looked a moment curiously at her agitated face, then said:
"I thank you for giving me your confidence, Miss Brooke. Rest assured I shall respect it. And you will permit me to express the sentiment that the fellow must have been ice itself to turn cold to you."
She did not reply, and he continued:
"But all that was in the past. You look back with scorn upon your fickle lover. Let me teach you to forget him in a new love. Be my bride, and no wife was ever worshiped as shall be Azalia, Countess of Clive!"