‘Because, oh, I am coming to that by-and-bye. But, indeed, it is true. He was at Malta, you may remember, just at that time, two years before I met you, and staying with his sister Mrs Loveless. He told you he had met me there. He was very different in appearance then from what he is now, and I flirted and “spooned,” with him till I fancied I was head over ears in love, and he incited me on to be far more wild than I had ever been before. When I look back and think how young and foolish I was, I see he behaved very badly to me.’ ‘Tell me all, Nora,’ said the earl sternly. ‘I _will_ tell you all; don’t be afraid, I used to creep out of my father’s house after dinner, and meet Mr Portland late at night, sometimes as late as twelve o’clock, and then sneak back again when everyone had gone to bed. We used to sit under the orange trees for hours, talking, and all that sort of folly, you know--’ ‘Oh, yes, I know,’ acquiesced the earl with a groan. ‘And one day we went out in a boat and were caught in a squall and had to stay away till the morning. We were with people all the time in a little inn, and papa never found out that Mr Portland was with me, but he was!’ ‘Any more pleasant stories to tell me?’ asked her husband. ‘No, that is the worst (bad enough too, isn’t it?), as far as I am concerned, but I was foolish enough during that time to write Jack a lot of letters. I used to write two and three times a day when I didn’t see him, and in them I spoke very freely of all the pranks we had played together. He wrote to me as well, of course, but when we parted I destroyed his letters, but he kept mine.’ ‘Hasn’t he given them up to you?’ demanded Ilfracombe quickly. ‘I have them now; but listen quietly to me, Ilfracombe, for a moment. You were rather vexed with me when we first came home to Thistlemere, because I did not welcome your bosom friend with the cordiality you wished me to extend to him. Why, if I had had the courage to tell you the truth, you would have kicked him out of the house. For, from the moment we met again, whenever Mr Portland has seen my disapproval of his influence over you in racing and gambling matters, he has held the threat over my head, that if I tried to dissuade you from throwing your money away, he would hand over those letters of mine, and make you hate and despise me as much as he did.’ ‘The scoundrel!’ said Ilfracombe between his teeth. ‘He has promised over and over again to restore me those letters,’ continued Nora, ‘and again and again he has broken his word. He never meant to give them to me at all, I am convinced of that. He knew that, as soon as I got them into my own hands, I should have the courage to speak to you, and prove to you how unworthy he is.’ ‘How did you get them at last, then, Nora?’ ‘Now comes the hardest part of my confession, Ilfracombe, and I shall never be able to make it whilst you look at me like that.’ The earl tried to smile as he replied,--