"Freely," she uttered; and at that moment she was sincere. "Freely--so I break this hated tie, and----" "Forge another where you could love?--_do_ love; and, forgetting all false pride, know the only true one--that of the man your soul has elected?--the man equal to you in all things but an empty title?" "You have taught me to know myself," she whispered; "teach me to read you aright; for my intellect cannot comprehend you, and I doubt, where I would have faith." "Do not doubt me," he said, coldly releasing her waist, and taking her hand; "I will counsel you well--lead you aright, and for your happiness. Never love, Lady Dora--never love; but if they will you should marry, make Lord Randolph a good and faithful wife, nor cast away your affections on one scarcely worthy of them. He is my friend--if you _must_ love, love him; but _I_ counsel all, never love, for _I_ dread and eschew the passion!" And, dropping her hand, he rose calmly from the ottoman, and listlessly taking up his hat and gloves, scarcely looking at her, bowed, and quitted the room. When he was gone she sprang from the ottoman, and, pacing the apartment like one bewildered by a sudden shock, ended by leaning her head on the table, and weeping the bitterest tears she had ever shed; for they were over her crushed pride--her abased heart, which he had probed to the quick, and then, as a worthless toy, cast from him. It was long before she could recall all the scene to her mind, and when she did it might have ended in almost madness had her unfailing pride and self-love not come hand in hand to say, "He loves, and dreads his love. Randolph is his friend--be patient--watchful, and your reward will be, in subduing all his feelings and resolutions." And thus cheered, she rose, to own to herself that for his love she would brave any thing. She even hated Minnie's memory when she thought, that though it had proved evanescent, as she deemed it had, he certainly _once_ loved that girl. "I will bind him yet, and in iron bands," she cried, as her tall, proud figure strode the room; "not as she did--silk could never hold so bold a heart as his--they shall be iron, and _I_ will rivet them; there shall be no key lest another undo them--riveted, Tremenhere--riveted!" and the girl smiled already, in triumph over his defeat. CHAPTER XVII.