‘Who told you that Ilfracombe loves you still--that is, if he ever loved you.’ ‘He told me so himself, only last night when we met in the meadow. He said he wished he had married me when he felt disposed to do it, years ago.’ ‘If he said that, he’s a scoundrel and a liar,’ cried Jack Portland. ‘Mr Portland, how dare you speak so? No one shall call Lord Ilfracombe such names in my presence. He was never dishonest or untrue. He was always the best and kindest and most generous of men to me--just as you heard his wife say this evening--and whoever speaks against him must be my enemy.’ ‘I am not that,’ replied Jack Portland. ‘Now, look here, Miss Llewellyn. The facts are these: Ilfracombe, whatever he may have said to you is simply infatuated with his wife. He defers to her will--follows her about like a lamb with a blue ribbon round its neck--and obeys her in everything. No one who sees him can help observing how madly in love he is. That is my hold over her. Ilfracombe loses a great deal of money to me. I don’t deny it. His money is useful to me, and it is in my power to ruin him if I choose. Indeed I have done a little that way already. Two years ago in Malta I met his wife, then Nora Abinger, and had a pretty hot flirtation with her. There was no real harm in it, but there was not much bloom left on the plum for the next comer, and she compromised herself in so many ways that no prejudiced person would think our acquaintanceship had been an innocent one. A case of circumstantial evidence, certainly, but so are most cases that end fatally for the actors in them. Well, to speak plainly, this is how I stand with the earl and countess. I could ruin them both to-morrow if I chose, and it is for you to render me harmless--draw the dragon’s teeth, in fact, and transform him into a lamb.’ Nell had grown very white as Portland alluded to Ilfracombe’s affection for his wife, but still she shook her head and repeated,-- ‘I couldn’t--indeed, I couldn’t’ ‘When I spoke to you last,’ persisted Portland, ‘things were quite different. Then you expected your lover to return to you any day, and you were horrified at the idea of stepping from one equivocal position to another. Now all is changed. Ilfracombe will never live with you again. You are sure of that. He has left you unprotected, and thrown you back upon a life for which he unfitted you without any prospects for the future--a ruined woman, yet with all the instincts of a lady. And I offer you marriage--an honest position if nothing else, and a return to some of the luxuries of life to which you have been so long accustomed. Is it not worth thinking over?’