"Oh," he said, rousing himself and endeavouring to smile, "I didn't know. Forgive me."

"You've changed somehow, Dudley," she said, rising. She went near to him and took his hand tenderly. "Why don't you tell me what is the matter? Something is troubling you. What is it?"

"You are, for one thing," he answered promptly, looking straight into her splendid eyes. As she stood there in that beautiful gown, with the historic pearls of the Nevills upon her white neck, Dudley thought he had never seen her look so magnificent. Well might she be called the Empress of Mayfair.

"But why trouble your head about me?" she asked in a low, musical voice, pressing his hand tenderly. "You have worries enough, no doubt."

"The stories I hear on every hand vex me horribly."

"You are jealous of that man who was at the Meldrums' house-party. It's useless to deny it. Well, perhaps I was foolish, but if I promise never to see him again, will you forgive me?"

"It is not for me to forgive," he said in an earnest voice. "I have, I suppose, no right to criticise your actions, or to exact any promises."

"Yes, Dudley, you, of all men, have that right," she answered, her beautiful breast, stirred by emotion, rising and falling quickly. "All that you have just said is, I know, just and honest; and it comes straight from your heart. You have spoken to me as you would to your own sister--and, well, I thank you for your good advice."

"And will you not promise to follow it?" he asked, taking her other hand. "Will you not promise me, your oldest man friend, to cut all these people and return to the simple, dignified life you led when d.i.c.k was still alive? Promise me."

"And if I promise, what do you promise me in exchange?" she asked.

"Will you make me your wife?"

The look of eagerness died out of his face; he stood as rigid as one turned to stone. What was she suggesting? Only a course that they had discussed, times without number, in happier days. And yet, what could he answer, knowing well that before a few hours pa.s.sed he might be compelled to take his own life, so as to escape from the public scorn which would of necessity follow upon his exposure.

"I--I can't promise that," he faltered, uttering his refusal with difficulty.

She shrank from him, as if he had struck her a blow.

"Then the truth is as I suspected. Some other woman has attracted you!"

"No," he answered in a hard voice, his dark brow clouded, "no other woman has attracted me."

"Then--well, to put it plainly--you believe all these scandalous tales that have been circulated about me of late? Because of these you've turned from me, and now abandon me like this!"

"It is not that," he protested.

"Then why do you refuse to repeat your promise, when you know, Dudley, that I love you?"

"For a reason which I cannot tell you."

She looked at him puzzled by his reticence. He was certainly not himself. His face was bloodless, and for the first time she noticed round his eyes the dark rings caused by the insomnia of the past two nights.

"Tell me, Dudley," she implored, clinging to him in dismay. "Can't you see this coldness of yours is driving me to despair--killing me? Tell me the truth. What is it that troubles you?"

"I regret, Claudia, that I cannot tell you."

"But you always used to trust me. You have never had secrets from me."

"No, only this one," he answered in a dull, monotonous manner.

"And is it this secret which prevents you from making the compact I have just suggested?"

"Yes."

"It has nothing to do with any woman who has come into your life?" she demanded eagerly.

"No."

"Will you swear that?"

"I swear it."

"You only tell me that we cannot marry, that is all? Can I have no further explanation?"

"No, none."

"Your decision is not owing to the scandal which you say is talked everywhere? You give your word of honour that it is not?"

"Yes, I give my word of honour," he answered. "My inability to renew my offer of marriage is owing to a circ.u.mstance which I am powerless to control."

"And you refuse to tell me its nature?"

"I regret, Claudia, that I must refuse," he said, pressing her hand.

His lips twitched, and she saw that tears stood in his eyes. She knew that the man who had been her lover in the days of her girlhood spoke the truth when he added, "This circ.u.mstance must remain my own secret."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

DISCLOSES AN UGLY TRUTH.

With hands interlocked they stood together in silence for some minutes.

Neither spoke. Their hearts were full to overflowing.

This woman, whose remarkable beauty had made it possible for her to ride rough-shod over discretion, was in those moments of silence seized by remorse. She saw that he was suffering, and with a woman's quick sympathy strove to alleviate his distress. In a manner that was neither hysterical nor theatrical, she carried his hand to her soft lips. Then, with a sudden burst of affection, she raised her beautiful face to his, saying:

"All the hard words you have spoken, Dudley, belong entirely to the past. I only know that I love you."

He looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, then said:

"No, Claudia. Our love must end. It is not fair to you that it should continue."

"You desire that it should end?" she asked in a strained voice.

"No. I am bound to leave you by force of circ.u.mstances," he replied.

"We can never marry--never."

"But why? I really can't understand you. Of late you have been so strange, so pre-occupied, and so unusually solicitous for my good name."

"Yes," he admitted, "it must have struck you as strange. But I have been thinking of your future."

"Did you never think of it in the past?"