"Beatrice! I would give much to be able to wash out the memories of that
night--to be proved mistaken--to be convicted of haste, of sternness--"

The tears rushed into her eyes.

"You need only have given one little thing--all I asked of you--trust!"

"Would to God I dare believe you now! Tell me, answer me, did I judge
you too harshly? Love at my age never changes, however wronged; it is
the latest, and it only expires with life itself. I confess to you, you
are dearer to me still than anything ever was, than anything ever will
be. Prove to me, for God's sake, that I misjudged you! Only prove it to
me; explain away what appeared against you, and we may yet--"

He stopped; his voice trembled, his hand touched hers, he breathed short
and fast. The Pythoness was very nearly tamed; her eyes grew soft and
melting, her lips trembled; but pride was still strong in her. At the
touch of his hand it very nearly gave way, but not wholly; it was there
still, tenacious of its reign. She set her little teeth obstinately
together, and looked up at him with her old hauteur.

"No, as I told you then, you must believe in me _without_ proof. I have
not forgotten your bitter words, nor yet forgiven them. I doubt if I
ever shall. You roused an evil spirit in me that night, Lord Earlscourt,
which you cannot exorcise at a moment's notice. Remember what was your
own motto, 'An indiscreet woman is never frank,'--yet from my very
frankness you accused me of indiscretion, and of far worse than
indiscretion--"

"My God! if I accused you falsely, Beatrice, forgive me!"

He must have loved her very much to bow his pride so far as that. _He_
was at _her_ feet--at _her_ mercy now; he, whom she had vainly sued,
sued her; but a perverse, fiery devil in her urged her to take her own
revenge, compelled her to throw away her own peace.

"You should have asked me that ten months ago; it is too late now."

His face dyed white, his eyes filled with passionate anguish. He crushed
her hand in his.

"Too late! Great Heavens! Answer me, child, I entreat you--I beseech
you--is it 'too late' because report is true that you have replaced me
with your cousin--that you are engaged to Hervey? Tell me truth now, for
pity's sake. I will be trifled with no longer."

Beatrice threw back her haughty little head contemptuously, though
ladies _don't_ sneer at the idea of being liees with me generally, I can
assure you. Her heart throbbed triumphantly and joyously.