ourself? A word would
clear you, a word restore you to him. Your anger, your pride, he would
forgive in a moment."

I'm a military man, not a diplomatist, or I shouldn't have added that
last sentence.

She rose, and looked at me haughtily and amazedly.

"It is I who have to forgive, not he. I wronged him in no way; he
wronged me bitterly. He dared to misjudge, to suspect, to insult me. I
shall never stoop to undeceive him. He gave me up without a trial. I
never will force myself upon him. He thanked God I was not his
wife--could I seek to be his wife after that? Love him passionately I
do, but forgive him I do _not_! I forbid you, on your faith as a
gentleman, ever to tell him what I told you that night. I trusted to
your honor; I shall hold you _dis_honored if you betray me."

Just as she paused an open carriage rolled past. I looked down
mechanically; in it was Earlscourt lying back on his cushions,
returning, I believe, from a Cabinet Council. There, in the street,
stood my tilbury, with the piebald Cognac that everybody in Belgravia
knew. There, in the open window, stood Beatrice and I; and Earlscourt,
as he happened to glance upwards, saw us both! His carriage rolled on;
Beatrice grew as white as death, and her lips quivered as she looked
after him; but Lady Mechlin entered, and I took them down to their
barouche.

"You are determined not to release me from my promise?" I asked
Beatrice, as I pulled up the tiger-skin over her flounces.

She shook her head.

"Certainly not; and I should think you are too much of a gentleman not
to hold a promise sacred."

Pride and determination were written in every line of her face, in the
very arch of her eyebrows, the very form of her brow, the very curve of
her lips--a soft, delicate face enough otherwise, but as expressive of
indomitable pride as any face could be. And yet, though I swore at her
as I drove Cognac out of the square, I couldn't help liking her all the
better for it, the little Pythoness! for, after all, it was natural and
very intelligible to me--she had been misjudged and wrongly suspected,
and the noblest spirits are always the quickest to rebel against
injustice and resent false accusation.

V.

HOW IN PERFECT INNOCENCE I PLAYED THE PART OF A RIVAL.

The season whirled and spun along as usual. They were having stormy
debates in the Lower House, and throwing out bills in the Upper; stifled
by Thames odors one evening, and running down to