“No,” she replied, steadfastly; “no shame rests upon him; that all belongs to the preceding generation; but I should shrink with loathing from the man who betrayed Annie Dale, as you represent, were he lord or prince—he is only worthy of my contempt, and I would scorn him as I would the veriest blackleg in this city.”
The young man flushed hotly. It was not pleasant to listen to such words, believing what he did; they touched a sensitive spot.
“But this man of whom I have told you is a gentleman, nevertheless,” he said.
“A gentleman?”
The words were uttered in the quietest possible tone, but the contempt which trembled through it was matchless, and made the young man wince as under a lash.
“Your distinctions are more nice than wise, Miss Huntress; but, mark my words, you shall never marry this man’s illegitimate son!” he hissed, driven almost to a frenzy by her words, her look, and tone.
She turned upon him, her face colorless, but with eyes gleaming like two points of fire.
“You insult me, sir! You insult one who is a hundred fold more noble than yourself, by the use of such vile language. But,” and she raised one daintily gloved hand to enforce her words, “were his name doubly tainted by the sin of others, it could not smirch the man I honor—the man I love. It will be the proudest day of my life when I wed Geoffrey Dale Huntress, as I shall, in spite of all that you have told me to-night, ay, even though you should do your worst, and proclaim it from every house-top in this city.”
She was glorious, in her haughty pride and indignation, as she gave utterance to these loyal sentiments, and Everet Mapleson instinctively shrank before her with a sense of shame and humiliation. At that moment the doors behind them swung open, and Geoffrey himself entered the box.