"Silver Heels," said I, angrily, "do you suppose I am in love with Mrs. Hamilton?"
"Why did you court her?" demanded Silver Heels, looking at me with bright eyes.
"Why? Oh, I—I fancied I was in love with you—and—and so I meant to make you jealous, Silver Heels. Upon my honour, that was all! I never dreamed she might think me serious."
The set smile on Silver Heels's lips did not relax.
"So you fancied you loved me?" she asked.
"I—oh—yes. Silver Heels, I was such a fool—"
"Indeed you were," she motioned with her lips.
How thin she had grown. Even the colour had left her lips now.
"There's one thing certain," I said. "I don't feel bound in honour to wed Mrs. Hamilton. I like her; she's pretty and sweet. I might easily fall in love with her, but I don't want to wed anybody. I could wed you if I chose, now, for Sir William wishes it, and he promised me means to maintain you."
"I thank Sir William—and you!" said Silver Heels, paler than ever.