“Yes, I am Lord Carrol, of Carrolton; but, Star——”
“That is enough; I want to hear no more,” she said, stopping him with an authoritative gesture of her white hand. “I will not listen to another word from your traitorous lips!”
She turned proudly from him and would have left him, but he sprang forward and seized her hands.
They were cold as ice and shaking as with palsy, and he was shocked by the hopelessness visible in her face as he looked down upon it.
“Star, my darling,” he began, in a voice that was almost stern from emotion; “you shall listen to me. It is my right to be heard, and I can explain everything to you if you will but give me the opportunity.”
But she would not. Pain, despair, outraged pride and affection made her unreasonable and almost insane.
She flashed a haughty glance up at him.
“Lord Carrol,” she said, in her iciest tones, “release my hands, if you please.”
He dropped them as if they had been coals of fire, and drew back a pace or two from her, deeply wounded, while his own face was nearly as white and pained as hers.
“Star, you are wronging me more than you dream. Surely you will listen to my defense,” he said, and his voice trembled with suppressed feeling.