"You cannot! My worthless life!—my honor! I could not take such a sacrifice, I would not!——"
"But—if my peace——"
She could not end her phrase, yet it said enough;—his hand closed on hers.
"Your peace! Good God! in my hands! I stay; then—let the world say what it likes!"
"Drive back; I have changed my mind about going abroad to-day," said Cheveley, as he got into his hansom at Albert Gate.
"How soon she has got over it! Girls do," thought Lady Marabout, as Cecil Ormsby came in from her ride with the brightest bloom on her cheeks a June breeze ever fanned there. She laid her hat on the table, flung her gauntlets at Bijou, and threw herself on her knees by Lady Marabout, a saucy smile on her face, though her lashes were wet.
"Dear Lady Marabout, I can forgive you now, but you will never forgive me!"
Lady Marabout turned white as her point-lace cap, gave a little gasp of paralyzed terror, and pushed back her chair as though a shell had exploded on the hearth-rug.
"Cecil! Good Heaven!—you don't mean——"