"Mademoiselle," he urged, appealingly, "I entreat you to believe what I say. I wish you well. I bear you no grudge, though you have ruined my boy's life. Young girls have not always the control of their hearts. But I tell you that those two—Nadia and the Englishman—are in love—deep in love, the one with the other. Do I not know? Have I not sat here night after night and watched them? Do you think a passion like that can be hid?"
There was in his manner an intensity, an urgency, which carried weight.
"If I did not know that it was true, do you think I would stand here to stab you with such cruel words?" he vehemently asked her. "It is that I wish to prepare you—that you obtain a moment's warning—that when they come in from the garden you have the key of the situation in your hands."
Veronica turned towards him. It was growing dusk, and in the half-light her face was very pale. "If it should be true!" she murmured, with a catch of the breath; and then the notion of how ridiculous it all was, came over her. She collected herself, and laughed lightly. "You do not know Mr. Vanston," she said, with an air of gentle reproof. "I do. He could never feel any deep admiration for a young lady of this type. He is—he is—well, he is himself, and I cannot explain what I mean—only I know that what you think cannot be true." She thought a moment as to how she could best convince him. "Our ways in England are so different," she kindly told him. "Our intercourse is so much more free. Mr. Vanston is accustomed to be as natural in his manner to ladies as he is to his own sex. That is what makes you think——" she broke off. Felix was approaching the window across the lawns.
He was walking rapidly, and his face, visible in the fading light, which was stronger out of doors, showed signs of great agitation.
Veronica, urged by some nameless impulse, went to the window. Vronsky was in the shadow, and Felix either did not see him or forgot his existence. He entered precipitately:—
"Rona! Rona! We are free!" he cried, in a transported voice.
"What do you say?" she faltered, suddenly dizzy, and putting both hands upon his arm to steady herself.
"Denzil has played you false," he broke out, as if the news could not be withheld. "I found him and her in the garden. He held her in his arms—he was kissing her! After that—after that—whose is your allegiance, my beloved?" He caught her two hands, and drew them up to encircle his own neck, folding her in his arms.
"Felix!" she uttered; and, after a moment's whirling pause, during which she looked into his kindled eyes, she pleaded, "Let me sit down. I am faint!"