“As you know, Mrs. O’Hara and myself are old friends,” he answered quietly. “And when she asked me to meet her here upon business, I had no excuse for declining, especially as I was much interested in Mr. Belmont’s fate on her account. All this past week I have been searching for you most anxiously, and have had no satisfaction excepting a passing glimpse of your face at Preston station.” “When you were escorting Mrs. O’Hara somewhere, and flirting with her publicly,” put in Lady Gwendolyn. “I was simply bidding her good-by when you saw me, and that is a ceremony which may very well take place in public.” “Under ordinary circumstances.” “The circumstances were by no means extraordinary in our case, Gwendolyn. I met her by chance; we traveled together for a couple of hours; what more natural and commonplace? I have known Mrs. O’Hara for the last ten years, her husband was the best friend I ever had in the world. Would you have had me treat her like a stranger?” “I have no right to dictate to you,” she answered coldly. “Indeed, you have every right, Gwendolyn, since I have asked you to be my wife.” “You forget that I declined the honor.” “I did not understand you so. You coquetted with my impatience as women are fond of doing, and finally left me in suspense; but you never absolutely refused me.” “Then I will repair my omission. I beg to thank you for the honor you have done me in asking me to be your wife,” she said, with great formality; “but I have no wish to marry, and have not the confidence in or affection for you that would induce me to change my resolution.” Although there was a certain insolence in her manner most men would have resented bitterly under the circumstances, he felt too sorry for her, and for himself, to resent what she said. She was casting away not only her happiness, but her safety, and he knew why. In his heart he felt sure that Lady Gwendolyn would have accepted him but for his unfortunate rendezvous with Mrs. O’Hara. He forgot that “trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ”; and she had seen him at Preston station making, as would seem, a very public display of his regard for the handsome widow. And Lady Gwendolyn was one of those women who would forgive a blow better than she would forgive the least shadow of unfaithfulness. It was useless to make excuses, Colonel Dacre knew, for she would believe her own eyes better than his words; but he could not help saying, deprecatingly: “I have done nothing to forfeit your confidence, Lady Gwendolyn; but if you do not like me, you are right to deny me. I had hoped different, for--for”--his voice breaking--“I have loved you very dearly. How much, you may, perhaps, know one of these days. I seem to have nothing to hope for in the world now, and yet I do not wish to leave it; because, dreary as my life must needs be, it may still be brightened over in a way by a glimpse of your face.”