lma! Let me comfort you,--let me tell you how
much I love you!"

And before she could divine his intent, he pressed his lips passionately
on her pale cheek. With a cry she tore herself violently from his arms
and sprang to her feet, trembling in every limb.

"What--what is this?" she exclaimed wrathfully. "Are you mad?"

And still weak and confused from her recent attack of faintness, she
pushed back her hair from her brows and regarded him with a sort of
puzzled horror.

He flushed deeply, and set his lips hard.

"I dare say I am," he answered, with a bitter laugh; "in fact, I know I
am! You see, I've betrayed my miserable secret. Will you forgive me,
Lady Errington--Thelma?" He drew nearer to her, and his eyes darkened
with restrained passion. "Matchless beauty!--adorable woman, as you
are!--will you not pardon my crime, if crime it be--the crime of loving
you? For I do love you!--Heaven only knows how utterly and desperately!"

She stood mute, white, almost rigid, with that strange look of horror
frozen, as it were, upon her features. Emboldened by her silence, he
approached and caught her hand,--she wrenched it from his grasp and
motioned him from her with a gesture of such royal contempt that he
quailed before her. All suddenly the flood-gates of her speech were
loosened,--the rising tide of burning indignation that in its very force
had held her dumb and motionless, now broke forth unrestrainedly.

"O God!" she cried impetuously, a magnificent glory of disdain flashing
in her jewel-like eyes, "what _thing_ is this that calls itself a
man?--this thief of honor,--this pretended friend? What have I done,
sir, that you should put such deep disgrace as your so-called _love_
upon me?--what have I _seemed_, that you thus dare to outrage me by the
pollution of your touch? I,--the wife of the noblest gentleman in the
land! Ah!" and she drew a long breath--"and it is you who speak against
my husband--_you_!" She smiled scornfully,--then with more calmness
continued--"You will leave my house, sir, at once! . . . and never
presume to enter it again!"

And she stepped towards the bell. He looked at her with an evil leer.

"Stop a moment!" he said coolly. "Just one moment before you ring. Pray
consider! The servant cannot possibly enter, as the door is locked."

"You _dared_ to lock the door!" she exclaimed, a sudden fear chilling
her heart as she remembered similar manoeuvres on the part of the
Reverend Mr. Dycewort