Vallance proceeded: ‘On the memorable night when I first beheld Miss Anstruther at the ball at Scarborough, I fell over head and ears in love with her.’
‘You fell in love with her, did you!’ repeated Montmorency, in a tone of some annoyance. ‘You mean with her banking account. Remember, you are in the confession box.’
‘On my honour, no!’ replied Vallance. ‘As you are aware, I could not afford to marry a penniless girl; but if I were as rich as Rothschild, and Miss Anstruther a pauper, I would marry her to-morrow, if she would have me.—You do not seem to like the idea?’
‘Humanity is a strange compound, Jack. It grates upon my sense of propriety that any one else should step into my shoes and wed the woman intended for my wife, yet whom I have vowed never to marry.’
‘Why, what a dog in the manger, you are!’
‘I would not so much mind if a stranger were to win the heiress; but to know her as your wife, Jack, for the remainder of my existence, to repent probably of my obstinacy—— You are not in earnest, Jack?’
‘Ah, but I am!’ replied Vallance, inwardly murmuring: ‘May I be forgiven the lie!’
After a brief mental struggle, Montmorency continued: ‘Well, success attend you. You are a lucky fellow to walk off with such a prize; while I—I shall remain a humble stage-player.’
‘Remember the peerless Fonblanque, Harry.’
‘Ah! you are right. There is beauty, talent, wit, elegance, refinement, all enshrined in the admirable Lady Teazle of to-night. I shall now no longer hold back. To-night I shall know my fate. You have applied the touchstone.’