“If it had, it is no affair of mine, Colonel Dacre,” she answered frigidly. “Mrs. O’Hara is lucky in having a friend, for she certainly needs somebody to give her good advice. It is not either usual or safe to make accusations you cannot prove. If she does me the honor of being jealous of me, and wishes to drive me out of England, she has gone the wrong way to work, for I mean to take a house in London, and live as much en evidence as possible. If Mrs. O’Hara or any one else can prove that I ever spoke to Mr. Belmont in my life, let them do so; but I think they must commence by this. One does not become terribly in love, frightfully jealous, and murderously angry with a perfect stranger, you know.” “If Mrs. O’Hara finds that you and her brother were perfect strangers, she will withdraw her accusation, of course. And, meanwhile, being false, it need not trouble you.” “It does not trouble me in the least,” she answered defiantly. “Only give your friend Mrs. O’Hara this word of warning from me: every scandalous word I can trace to her I will make her prove, or she shall take the consequences.” “I shall not probably see her again, Gwendolyn. From the moment she is your enemy she has ceased to be my friend.” A rosy flash, such as you see in the clouds at sunset, passed over the girl’s beautiful face. She half extended her hand, then drew it back, saying, with forced composure: “I have no right to separate you two. Indeed, it would be cruel if I did, since you and I can never be anything more to each other than we are now.” “Gwendolyn, you will drive me mad! I follow you about like a dog, and get nothing but harsh usage in return. Can’t you teach yourself to be merciful?” “I must try first to be just.” “A fig for justice! Who cares to even hear the name?” he cried vehemently. “A woman is never just unless she is supremely indifferent to the person she has to judge, and anything is better than that. I want you for myself, child, don’t you hear?” He drew closer, and would have taken her hand; but remembering how foolishly weak she had been at their last interview, she took refuge on the other side of the table before she would even parley with him. Then she spoke out loudly and clearly: “I don’t wish to appear harsh, Colonel Dacre. I have a certain duty to perform, and I stand so entirely alone nowadays that I am obliged to take a very independent tone; but I would not give you unnecessary pain for the world. Indeed, I am very grateful to you for believing in me a little; but you know I have another reason, besides the one I gave just now, for refusing to be your wife. If you could explain satisfactorily about the lady I saw at Borton, and this cruel slander had been silenced, then----” “Finish your sentence, Gwendolyn.” “Then I might, perhaps, marry you; but you see, at present, it is out of the question.” “That I deny. I see no just cause or impediment why we should not be married to-morrow, supposing both of us were willing.”