“Why should I? In the first place, you do not treat me with confidence; in the second, all I could say would never persuade you that it was not I who had meetings in Turoy Wood with Mr. Belmont.” “I do not see who else it could have been.” “And the lady I met at Borton Hall--who else could she have been but your wife?” “She might have been any one.” “So might Mr. Belmont’s friend.” “I don’t know about that. You are the only lady in Turoy.” “Now!” she said, with a significance that made Colonel Dacre ponder, and wonder if he had been confused like the rest of the world. After all, he could not prove that Lady Gwendolyn had been the only person in the Grange that evening; and though the lady he had seen in the wood with Mr. Belmont resembled the other in figure and style, he remembered now that he had not seen her face, and had, therefore, no right to judge her. How could he have been so cruel as not even to have given her the benefit of the doubt? And, after all, she might be innocent, poor darling! He pressed her to his bosom with a passion of tenderness, as he murmured: “Oh, my darling! You can never forgive me for having misjudged you so, and yet I loved you like a madman all the while.” There was such a blessed rest in the love he proffered; and she yearned beyond words to gather it up to her heart. But believing him to be the husband of another woman, it was her duty to put this comfort away from her, and she dared not hesitate for conscience sake. She withdrew one of his arms resolutely. “You must try and get over your love,” she said, with evident effort; and the utter desolation of her face would have touched a heart of stone. “I will not take another woman’s just place.” “Heaven forbid that I should be base enough to ask such a thing of you!” “You are asking it now.” “You would trust a madwoman rather than me?” he said reproachfully. “I am afraid I must. The madwoman had nothing to gain by deceiving me, and you have.” “You forget that what I had gained by fraud I should not be able to keep. If I were a married man there are people in the world who must know about it. It is rare that a woman is entirely without family and protectors, and can be kept out of sight without somebody requiring to know what has become of her.” “True,” Lady Gwendolyn replied; “but one has heard of such things.” “In novels.” “In real life, too. One rarely takes up a newspaper without hearing of some mysterious disappearance.”