‘And you know nothing of mine, you would say. Charming equality! Say, Miss Fonblanque, may I hope?’
It was now the turn of the actress to sigh. ‘It would be cruel to raise hopes which can never be realised.’
Montmorency let fall the hand which in his ardour he had seized, and drew himself proudly up. ‘That is your fixed answer?’
‘It is.’
Montmorency once more took possession of her taper fingers, and raising them to his lips, uttered the word ‘Farewell!’ and hastily left the greenroom.
The dark melting eyes of the heiress gazed after his retreating figure, and large drops of moisture gathered in them. ‘I have half a mind to call him back,’ she mentally whispered.—‘No! I must remember I am an Anstruther.’
Sinking on a couch, Lady Teazle felt her brain spinning round; then presently raising her eyes, she beheld—Mr Vallance!
‘Have I not the honour of speaking to Miss Anstruther?’
‘Since you recognise me, it would be affectation to deny my identity. Mr Vallance, may I ask you to preserve my secret?’
‘From all save one individual—Mr Montmorency. Surely you knew that in the Charles Surface of this evening you beheld your rejected lover, Mr Stanley?’