"Did you know, my lord," he began, "that Lady Ella was breaking her heart because she was to marry me?"
"Really--"
"You didn't know it? I should be glad to think you didn't. Perhaps in spite of all I said, you thought I had bought those papers to have you in my grasp. I am not a gentleman, my lord, but I hope I am above that. I was a fool to think I could ever make Lady Ella happy, and I resign my claim upon her hand, my lord, and I must leave your roof for ever."
"Stop, sir!" cried the earl, in a rage of embarrassment and despair. He seemed face to face with the wreck of all his hopes. "Do you know that this is an insult to my daughter and to me?"
"My lord," returned Kimberley, "I am very sorry, but it was a shame to ask her to marry a man like me. I won't help to break her heart--I can't--not if I break my own a million times over."
The earl beat his foot upon the carpet. It was true enough. It had been a shame; and yet the man was a gentleman when all was said and done.
"By heaven, Kimberley," cried his lordship, in spite of himself, "you are a noble-hearted fellow!"
"Excuse me the trouble I have caused you. Good-bye, my lord." Kimberley bowed and left.
That night Kimberley received a package containing the papers and a note from the earl congratulating him on the magnanimous manner in which he had acted, but declaring that he felt compelled to return the documents. This added another drop to the bitterness of Kimberley's cup. He could well nigh have died for shame; he could well nigh have died for pity of himself.