"Lord Effingham," cried Kate, covering her face with one hand, and extending the other before her, "give me a moment's thought to distinguish if this be not some horrid dream!"
"No, it is no dream, Miss Vernon," said Lord Effingham, recalled, by her evident alarm, from his passionate outburst.
She uncovered her eyes, and looking steadily at him, exclaimed—
"How could you act with such dissimulation? Why have you so deceived us?"
"I have not deceived you; nor am I answerable for the self-deception of others; but this is no answer."
"But my cousin, Lady Desmond," resumed Kate, still too bewildered to think of, or choose her words, "you love her. What, what is the meaning of this extraordinary address to me?"
Lord Effingham's pale, dark cheek did not change its colour by a shade; his firm, resolute mouth assumed even a sterner expression than usual, as he replied—
"Think over the past few months, and say honestly has there been a trace of the lover discoverable in my manner towards your cousin; except by eyes prompted to find out what did not exist."
"But," said Kate, anxious to screen her cousin, and not to admit too much, though ill able to cope with the far-seeing accomplished man of the world, "people said you were engaged to her, you must have loved her."
"Never," cried Lord Effingham. "Why talk of Lady Desmond? I never loved her—I may have admired her. I may have liked to feel my power over a proud spirit; but you, and you only, have I ever loved—loved with all the energy of my better nature; hear me, Kate!" and he threw himself at her feet; "do not turn from me with such repugnance—I will wait patiently till you think differently of me. I have overcome difficulties for far lesser objects; for you I will conquer myself—speak to me. I have borne suspense long, in silence—can you love me?"