"I was about to say that I thank you, Mr. Berkeley—thank you very much indeed—for the great honour you do me in addressing me thus, and in making me such an offer; but you must strive to dismiss all such thoughts from your breast in future, as I could never, never love you! Pardon me an avowal so very painful, and permit me to leave you." Her coolness, and almost unmoved bearing, piqued Berkeley, and wounded his self-esteem, which was inordinate. "Your bridal flowers," said he, with a bitter smile, "must be blended with the faded strawberry leaves of some Anglo-Norman line, I presume?" "Not so, sir. I have hopes, I admit, but they are not quite so high," she replied, with a calm and steady glance, though her short upper lip quivered with suppressed pride and anger. "In—deed!" sneered Berkeley, as his habitual insolence came now thoroughly to his aid; "and so you once and for all actually refuse me, Lady Loftus?" "I grieve to say, sir, that I do—once and for ever. Let us endeavour to forget this very unpleasant scene, and, if possible, be as before—friends." "And for whom do you refuse me?" he demanded, as pride and jealousy rendered him blind to all future consequences. "For whom, sir, matters not to you." "I think it matters very much to me." "Perhaps; but permit me to remind you, Mr. Berkeley, that I am unused to be questioned thus." "Oh," said he, bowing low, "doocid good. I—aw—crave your pardon; but if you will not tell me your preference, Lady Louisa, shall I have the honour of telling you?" "If you please," she replied, turning half away, and shrugging her shoulders, while her colour deepened, and her dark eyes gleamed with sudden anger. "It is for one who is even now, perhaps, with a worthless creature, whose society he prefers to yours—haw! haw! the cast-off mistress of a brother officer!" "It is false, sir!" she exclaimed, in an agitated voice, as she turned her flashing eyes full upon him, and drew her tall and glorious figure up like a tragedy queen; "it is false, and cannot be." "Oh, no, it is not false, my dear madam; but unfortunately, is—aw—too true." There was a pause, during which they regarded each other steadily. "Why could he not dine here at eight this evening?" asked Berkeley. "Because duty required his attendance elsewhere, if it is Captain Norcliff to whom you refer, sir; but I shall no longer bandy words here with you." "Duty—doocid good! At that very hour this evening—eight—we shall find them together, if you choose to accompany me." "I, sir, accompany you?" she repeated, disdainfully. "Yes." "To where he is—with her?" "Yes." "Dare you make such a proposition to me?"