cried--"unworthy of a man of honor! You pay Lady Louise every
attention; you make love to her in the most _prononcé_ manner, and at
the eleventh hour you desert her for this forward little barbarian."

Sir Everard opened his eyes in cool surprise.

"My dear mother, you mistake," he said, with perfect _sang froid_.
"Lady Louise made love to me!"

"Everard!"

Her voice absolutely choked with rage.

"It sounds conceited and foppish, I know," pursued the young gentleman;
"but you force me to it in self-defense. I never made love to Lady
Louise, as Lady Louise can tell you, if you choose to ask."

"You never asked her in so many words, perhaps, to be your wife. Short
of that, you have left nothing undone."

Sir Everard thought of the dinner-party, of the moonlit balcony, of
George Grosvenor, and was guiltily silent.

"Providence must have sent him," he thought, "to save me in the last
supreme moment. Pledged to Lady Louise, and madly in love with Harriet
Hunsden, I should blow out my brains before sunset!"

"You are silent," pursued his mother. "Your guilty conscience will not
let you answer. You told me yourself, only two days ago, that but for
George Grosvenor you would have asked her to be your wife."