"Categorically I reply: Have I loved Miss Emilia Belloni?--No. Do I?--
No. Do I love Charlotte Chillingworth?--Yes, ten thousand times! And
now let Britomart disarm."

He sought to get his reward by gentle muscular persuasion. Her arms
alone yielded: and he judged from the angle of the neck, ultra-sharp
though it was, that her averted face might be her form of exhibiting
maidenly reluctance, feminine modesty. Suddenly the fingers in his grasp
twisted, and not being at once released, she turned round to him.

"For God's sake, spare the girl!"

Emilia stood in the doorway.




CHAPTER XXXVII

A knock at Merthyr's chamber called him out while he sat writing to
Marini on the national business. He heard Georgiana's voice begging him
to come to her quickly. When he saw her face the stain of tears was
there.

"Anything the matter with Charlotte?" was his first question.

"No. But, come: I will tell you on the way. Do not look at me."

"No personal matter of any kind?"