“Isn’t the country worth seeing, Lady Gwendolyn?” “Quite; only people never do come here to see the country.” “There is ‘metal more attractive,’ perhaps.” “Perhaps.” And she looked into his eyes unflinchingly, while her color wavered again. “Although I have retired from the world I have taken no vows, and am, therefore, still at liberty to welcome my friends.” “Then I am forced to conclude that you do not look upon me as a friend, since you refused to see me last night?” “I was not able to do so,” she answered coldly. “I know; you were better employed.” “Was I? You seem to be wonderfully well informed as to my movements, Colonel Dacre.” “Too well, Lady Gwendolyn. But allow me to congratulate you upon having so quickly recovered from your sprain. You seemed to be suffering so much that afternoon I left you on the couch in my mother’s boudoir I almost feared you would not be able to walk for some time.” The mere shadow of a smile hovered on Lady Gwendolyn’s red mouth; but she suppressed it directly, and said: “A woman can generally manage to do anything she wants to do.” “And you walked back to the Castle?” “Really, Colonel Dacre, you are exceedingly curious!” “I must confess that I am. Nobody likes to be deceived.” “It isn’t pleasant, certainly,” she answered, with a bitter smile. “But women are quite accustomed to that sort of thing, you know.” “Accustomed to deceive, you mean, of course.” Lady Gwendolyn turned from him disdainfully. “You, at any rate, ought to be indulgent to a failing of this kind, Colonel Dacre, since you have lived a lie, so to speak, for a great many years.” He uttered a sharp exclamation of surprise at such an extraordinary accusation. “What do you mean?” he inquired at last. “You are surely dreaming, Lady Gwendolyn.” “I wish I were!” and there was a ring of passionate regret in her voice. “If all the world had disappointed me, I would still have sworn that you were true, until--until the day before yesterday.” “And then?” “And then I knew the truth.” “What truth? Upon my word and honor, I have not the least idea what you mean?” “Come, Colonel Dacre, is it worth while to deny anything to me? I do not accuse you, remember; I have no right; I simply state a fact. It is a pity you sought the meeting I would have avoided, for it must needs humiliate you as it pains me.” “There is nothing in my past that humiliates me in the smallest degree. I have had great sorrows, but they were not brought about by any fault of my own. I came here to seek you because I considered that you owed me an explanation, and I did not choose you should be able to say that I could not defend myself against your implied accusation. But what I saw last night has altered my feeling in the matter, and if I sought you this morning it was only because I am a miserable, weak stupid, and wanted to see your face once more before we parted, never to meet again, I trust, on this side of the grave.”