n 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.

"To your father, Lady Chetwynde, I once made a vow that I would
always be careful about your happiness. I made it thoughtlessly, not
knowing what I was promising, not in any way understanding its full
import. I made it when full of gratitude for an act of his which I
regarded only by itself, without thinking of all that was required of
me. I made it as a thoughtless boy. But that vow I intend now, as a
mature man, to fulfill, most sacredly and solemnly. For I intend to
care for your happiness, and that, too