But not a muscle of Lady Dimsdale’s face moved, and her answer came in tones as clear and incisive as those of a bell. ‘Were he here now of whom you speak, I would say to him: “You have an excellent memory for many things; is it possible that you can have forgotten Marietta Gray?”’ Sir Frederick started as if he had been stung. His face blanched suddenly. ‘Marietta Gray!’ he stammered out. ‘What do you, Lady Dimsdale, know of her?’ ‘She was only a fisherman’s daughter, it is true,’ continued Lady Dimsdale in her clear cold accents. ‘A pretty toy for a fine gentleman to amuse himself with, and then to cast aside. I knew something of her, and I heard her story. When, a little later, one of the strange chances of life brought within my influence the man who had first won the affections of that poor girl and then basely deserted her, I resolved as far as lay in my power to avenge the cruel wrong. You have just told me, Sir Frederick, how well I succeeded in my object. I am happy to think, that the lesson has lingered so long in your memory.’ Sir Frederick rose and took one or two turns under the shade of the branching yew. Not for years had the still waters of his life been so deeply stirred. He took out his delicately perfumed handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. His hands trembled a little—a thing that had rarely happened to him before. But through all his agitation and surprise, he felt that he had learned to care more for Laura Dimsdale during the last few minutes than he had ever cared for her before. If it were possible for him ever to really love a woman, here was that one woman. Even after all that had passed between them, he would ask her to become his wife. She was a generous, large-hearted creature, he felt sure; and now that she had stabbed him so cruelly, she would be the first to stoop and bind up his wounds. ‘It’s the way of her sex,’ he said to himself. Another reflection did not fail to impress itself upon him: Not to every one is given the chance of marrying a Baronet with six thousand a year. Women can forgive much under such circumstances. Lady Dimsdale rose. ‘I must leave you now, Sir Frederick,’ she said. ‘One moment, if you please—just one moment,’ he urged.