"

"And you would not even let Jack speak for me!"

"Dear Jack!" she cried; "were it not for Jack we should not be here,
Richard."

"Indeed, Dolly, two people could scarce fall deeper in debt to another
than are you and I to my Lord Viscount," I answered, with feeling. "His
honesty and loyalty to us both saved you for me at the very outset."

"Yes," she replied thoughtfully, "I believed you dead. And I should have
married him, I think. For Dr. Courtenay had sent me that piece from the
Gazette telling of the duel between you over Patty Swain--"

"Dr. Courtenay sent you that!" I interrupted.

"I was a wild young creature then, my dear, with little beside vanity
under my cap. And the notion that you could admire and love any girl but
me was beyond endurance. Then his Lordship arrived in England, brimming
with praise of you, to assure me that the affair was not about Patty
at all. This was far from making me satisfied that you were not in
love with her, and I may say now that I was miserable. Then, as we were
setting out for Castle Howard, came the news of your death on the road
to Upper Marlboro. I could not go a step. Poor Jack, he was very honest
when he proposed," she added, with a sigh.

"He loved you, Dorothy."

She did not hear me, so deep was she in thought.

"'Twas he who gave me news of you, when I was starving at Gordon's."

"And I--I starved, too, Richard," she answered softly. "Dearest, I slid
very wrong. There are some matters that must be spoken of between us,
whatever the pain they give. And my heart aches now when I think of that
dark day in Arlington Street when I gave you the locket, and you went
out of my life. I knew that I had done wrong then, Richard, as soon as
ever the door closed behind you. I should have gone with you, for better
for worse, for richer for poorer. I should have run after you in the
rain and thrown myself at your feet. And that would have been best for
my father and for me."

She covered her face with her hands, and her words were stifled by a
sob.

"Dorothy, Dorothy!" I cried, drawing her to me. "Another time. Not now,
when we are so happy."

"Now, and never again, dear," she said. "Yes, I saw and heard all that
passed in the drawing-room. And I did not blame, but praised you for
it. I have never spoken a word beyond necessity to my father since. God
forgive me!" she cried, "but I have despised him from that hour. When
I knew that he had plotted to sell me to that d