"Why do you say that? How dare you? Has Lieutenant De Vere told you—"
"Yes, he has told me that you would not marry him because you loved another. He is a thrice better man whoever he may be, Leonora. How much I envy him I need not say," he said, earnestly, carried away by the passion that filled him.
She looked at him with her gray-blue eyes full of wonder.
"You! Lady Adela's intended husband!" she said, bitterly.
"I am not her intended husband," he answered. "Do you think I am less noble than you, Leonora? that I could wrong any one by giving my hand without my heart? No, I do not love Lady Adela, and I can never be her husband. Do you know what I was doing up in London, child?"
"How should I know?" she answered.
"Well, I was trying to exchange into a regiment that is en route for India. I am going to throw over the twenty thousand a year and run away from England and my pain."
"You are?" she said, drawing a long breath and gazing at him with dilated, wondering eyes. "But why, Lord Lancaster?"
"Can you ask me why?" he asked, bitterly.
"Yes, because I can not understand at all why you are going to India. What pain is it you are running away from?"