Before she could answer, Robert stepped quickly up to her with flashing eyes and lips trembling with anger. “Madam, that I have had the misfortune to offend ye, I am sorrowfully aware,” he said with bitter sarcasm, “but that I have been guilty of offering ye an insult, none knows better than yourself how little cause ye have to accuse me of such monstrous ingratitude, such a contemptible betrayal of the laws of hospitality. I am quite willing that you should repeat every word of the conversation that passed between us in the room a few minutes since, and if aught that I have said can be construed as an insult to your ladyship, then do I stand ready and whiling to abide by the consequence of such an indiscretion.” He looked her straight in the eyes, and with folded arms calmly waited for her to speak. Not long did she return the look, however, for the utter scorn of it stung her guilty heart to its core. Not that she felt any compunction for what she was doing—her whole soul was up in arms against him, and she would not stop until she had meted out her spiteful revenge upon him to the fullest extent. His evident contemptuous defiance irritated her beyond measure—she was angrier with him than ever—already she had a sort of strange feeling of triumph at the vengeance she had designed, for she knew that her word would be believed against his; even now she could read suspicion and conviction in many of the serious faces that surrounded her, much to her satisfaction. He had thrown down the challenge, had he? Well, she would take it up. No one knew what had passed between them save themselves, and no one would ever know the truth, and the truth would now be a very small factor in working out her present scheme of vengeance. All these thoughts flashed quickly through her mind, and her answer was ready on her lips almost soon as he had finished speaking. With well-simulated indignation she drew herself haughtily away from him, with a gesture of repulsion. “Dare you deny your protestations of love and devotion?” she replied. “Why, my lord,” she continued scornfully, turning to her husband, who was now regarding Robert with serious, thoughtful eyes, a look of wounded pride and deepening sorrow gradually shadowing his noble countenance, “before I could stop him he had fallen upon his knees and begged me to be false to you, and to give him my love, my favors.” “Great God!” cried Robert, staggering back, white and speechless, while a wave of the blackest despair engulfed him completely, for he knew that the outrageous lie had sealed his doom as utterly as though it had been the truth; knew that all denials from him would be useless in the face of that accusation. He sank back into a chair in helpless resignation, his independent spirit, his haughty pride wounded almost unto death.