Deep and low grew the tones of Lord Chetwynde's voice as he spoke these words--deep and low, yet restrained with that restraint which is put over the feelings by a strong nature, and yet can not hide that consuming passion which underlies all the words, and makes them burn with intensest heat. Here the hot fire of his indignation seemed to be expressed in a blighting and withering power; and Hilda shrank within herself involuntarily in fear, trembling at this terrific denunciation. Lord Chetwynde made a slight gesture. "Calm yourself," said he; "you can not help your nature. Do you suppose for one moment that I, by any possibility, can expect an explanation? Not at all. I have mentioned this for the first and for the last time. Even while your letters were lying before me I did not deign to breathe one word about them to my father, from whom I kept no other secret, even though I knew that, while he loved you and trusted you, both his love and his trust were thrown away. I would not add to his troubles by showing him the true character of the woman to whom he had sold me and bound me fast, and whom he looked on with affection. That sorrow I determined to spare him, and so I kept silent. So it was that I always spoke of you with the formulas of respect, knowing well all the time that you yourself did not deserve even that much. But he deserved it, and I quenched my own indignation for his sake. But now there is no longer any reason why I should play the hypocrite, and so I speak of these things. I say this simply to let you know how your conduct and character are estimated by one whose opinion is valued by many honorable gentlemen. "Even after his death," continued Lord Chetwynde, "I might possibly have had some consideration for you, and, perhaps, would not have used such plain language as I now do. But one who could take advantage of the death of my father to give vent to spleen, and to offer insult to one who had never offended her, deserves no consideration. Such conduct as yours, Lady Chetwynde, toward me, has been too atrocious to be ever forgiven or forgotten. To this you will no doubt say, with your usual sneer, that my forgiveness is not desired. I am glad if it is not.