“I have forgotten her name, but it does not matter now. She has forgotten Victor de Laprade, as he has forgotten her.”
“I do not believe that, my cousin Victor.”
“That I have forgotten the circumstances? Ah, well! it is possible that I might recall them to memory, but I would, rather let them die, as I would all that belongs to the past. If my cousin Dorothy would but give me leave I would begin a new life to-day with new thoughts, new feelings, and a new heart. She smiles, and thinks it is not possible that I, who have wasted my youth, should try to save my manhood.”
“Indeed you have my leave, but your reformation is too sudden, and you know you are not serious.”
“I have been serious all my life; my cousin does not know her kinsman. Because I followed the fashion of my time, and fought and drank and played, wasting my youth like many another reckless fellow, therefore I was merry and had no thought or care. Because I am a gentleman, and not a solemn citizen who looks with a grim frown on all the devil´s works, therefore my heart knows no sadness. It is thus the world has judged me, and so it may. But it is because I am sad and weary that I would have my cousin judge me differently.”
For the first time since Dorothy had known him, he had lost his light and cynical manner and spoke with simple earnestness. He had made no display of emotion, but though he was calm and self-restrained, it was yet evident he spoke with abundant feeling. If he was not sincere, his humility and contrition were well assumed.
“I have been looking all my life,” he went on, looking at her steadily as she kept her eyes bent on the book that still lay open on her knees; “I have been seeking all my life for a quiet heart--I, the libertine, the gambler who have squandered my patrimony and wasted my heritage. It was not to be found where I sought it, and my search was in vain. But now I know the secret that I was too blind to see before. Do you know, my cousin, what it is? Nay, you will not rise, for you must hear me out. It is love--the love a man may feel for what is purer and better than himself, the love that fills him with fresh hopes and new desires, the love that raises him to the pure heights of her he worships.”
Then he suddenly stopped. Hardly knowing what answer to make, Dorothy rose from her seat and the Vicomte stooped down to pick up the book that had fallen to the floor. He said gravely as he reached it to her, “That is all my secret, my cousin, and does not sound so terrible when all is said. I trust you will remember it, for some day I may tell you how I came to make the great discovery.”
“Lady Hester would have made a better confidante or, perhaps, my brother Jasper. And that reminds me, Victor,” she continued, with a too evident anxiety to change the subject of this conversation, “I have often longed to ask what Jasper and yourself find to talk about during the long hours you spend together in his chamber.”
“Jasper is learning a very useful lesson,” answered De Laprade resuming his old manner, “which I teach him out of my experience. But now his education is nearly finished and we shall see whether he will profit by it.”