I suppose it was inevitable that even my best efforts at being pleasant should have failed to convince Lady Baradell that my feelings towards her had not changed. People do not as a rule choose quite such unconventional hours for calling except with the expectation of a considerably more enthusiastic welcome than I was prepared to offer.
I saw suspicion and anger gathering slowly in her face, and finally she stepped back and clenched her hands.
"Why are you trying to deceive me?" she broke out passionately. "There is someone else. Tell me the truth, Stuart, at once."
The truth being exactly what I didn't want to tell her, I remained in a state of embarrassed silence.
"Oh, there's no need for you to speak," she added bitterly; "I know you too well." Then rage, murderous, ungovernable rage, flamed suddenly into her eyes. "You fool! Do you think I am the sort of woman to be picked up and thrown aside at a man's whim? Did you imagine for one single moment that you could deceive me?"
"No," I admitted sadly, "I didn't."
She laughed—an unpleasant, mirthless laugh, and, throwing back her hair, stared me full in the face like some splendid tigress.
"I love you, Stuart," she said steadily; "I love you as I don't think many women have loved men; but I will see you dead before I let any other woman have you."
Then, without another word, she turned and left the room.
I stood for a moment where I was, looking at the door. I felt rather like a man who had unwittingly touched off a dynamite cartridge. Whatever might be the precise value of Lady Baradell's last threat, I knew that I had managed to make an enemy more dangerous than any Northcote had already bequeathed me. With a heartfelt deliberation I cursed my double and all his works.