"
Virginia makes an impatient movement with her hand.
"Vansittart is in love with Mrs. Devereux's eldest girl, Connie. She is
a pretty little kitten of a thing, but a mere child--a doll. I go there
rather often--they are old friends of mine. Whenever I go, he is always
there."
For a moment Virginia feels as though she were dying; then, by an
extraordinary effort, she recovers herself.
"I would rather have my tongue cut out than tell you," Lord Harford
continues, half-ashamed, "only that I want you to know where your refuge
is if he breaks your heart. Oh!" imploringly, "why will you not care for
me who am ready to devote my life to you? Marry me, and let us go abroad
and win health for you and happiness for me!"
His voice is broken with emotion--he takes one of her hands in his. She
is leaning back in her chair, very white--she is hardly conscious of his
action--all the hot blood in his veins cannot warm her chill white
fingers.
"Do you think," she says at last, very slowly, "that if--if he were rid
of me, he would marry her? Does she care for him?"
"I don't think about it. Yes, it is very strange; but, child as she is,
he has perfectly infatuated her."
There is another long pause, during which he eagerly scans her face.
Suddenly her eyes light up, and she returns his glance.
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