Chesterfield broke from him, and, taking half a dozen agitated steps, wheeled and returned to the charge. “Let her, then, and be damned to her! And yet, that ‘carrion’! George, there’s something in purity.” “How do _you_ know?” “I wouldn’t be the cause of her committing herself. That would be a foul return for her trust.” “You’re very virtuous and considerate of a sudden.” “I must go some lengths to save her.” “Go on your knees, do you mean?” “Would she forgive me, if I did?” “She might pretend to--just to quiet your suspicions.” “Curse you for a comfortless friend!” He went off again, and again wheeled and flung back. “Zounds, man, can’t you see what is the case with me?” “A case of love at first sight, it seems to me.” “I believe, on my honour, you’re right.” “You do? So you’ve never looked at your wife till now?” “Not with these eyes.” “Well, on my word, I’m sorry for you.” “Why? Why are you sorry?” “Late comers to the feast, you know, must be content with bones.” He laughed provokingly. My lord’s jaw seemed to drop. “You’ve no reason to suspect her?” he demanded. “None whatever.” “Then, why----?” “Hark ye, Phil; I know my young cousin--and I know women. She’s bound, in self-respect, to refute your outrageous calumny by offering herself to be tasted elsewhere.” “A pox on my peevish tongue! Don’t say I’ve gone too far for hope, George.” “We’ll say, at least, for simple remedies.” “What desperate ones, then, in God’s name?” Hamilton considered, frowning heavily, while the other hung feverishly on his verdict. The young man was, in truth, in a quandary. Everything hitherto had been favouring his purposed intrigue--the husband’s indifference, the wife’s grievance, and her natural affection for him, her cousin. That, under the circumstances, had been easily manœuvred into a warmer feeling. He had his sympathy with her neglected state for a leading asset; he had calculated upon Chesterfield’s consistent callousness and blindness. Now, this sudden and unexpected revulsion of feeling on the nobleman’s part had upset all his designs. A reconciliation between the couple was the last thing in the world he desired to bring about; his interests lay, rather, in widening the breach. To effect the latter while appearing to assist the former must be from this time his insidious policy. He cudgelled his brains for inspiration, and suddenly he looked up. “There’s only one remedy I can think of,” he said. “No other amends you could make would be adequate to the offence. You might go down on your knees to her, and she would forgive and despise you; you might kiss and be friends, and she would smile, and turn away to wipe her lips. No self-abasement could atone for such an insult; but it would rather wake in her disgust for one so poor in spirit that he dared not back his own slander. Yet what she would never yield, despite pretence, to recantation and apology, she might to jealousy.” “Jealousy?”