"You seem to be utterly confounded, sir, I would not have asked you the question if I had not had your own word that such was the case."
"May I ask, my dear Miss Walsingham, may I ask to what you refer?"
"You feign forgetfulness. Fie, Colonel Brand, is it possible that the few words which have ever passed between us could have slipped your memory? Perhaps you will profess yourself unable to explain to me the term 'fortune-hunter,' as applied in connection with me, also."
The blank change deepened on the soldier's sallow countenance, then a certain film covered the wandering eyes, like those of an eagle before the too bright sun.
"Miss Walsingham, whoever informed you of my using any such invidious term in connection with you, traduced me."
"You never used the word then?"
"On my honor as a gentleman, no."
"Ha," cried Margaret, with a flash of triumph, "then you utterly deny having ever written to me?"
A scowl, withering as fire, crossed the colonel's face, and a furtive glare at his daring opponent, made her shudder though she did not see it.
"You refer to the unlucky note I was insane enough to write to you, the night upon which I left Castle Brand?" he inquired, slowly coming out of his fog. "I had forgotten its contents."