“Well, I never thought so till now,” says she.  She nods at him.  “Good-night.”

“No, stop!” says Rylton.  “I will have this out with you.  You pretend to misunderstand me; but I shall make it clear.  Do you think I have not seen your conduct of this evening?”

“Mine?”

“Yes, with your cousin—­with Hescott.”  He draws nearer to her.  His eyes are on fire, his face white.  “Do you think I saw nothing?”

“I don’t know what you saw,” says she slowly.

All her lovely mirth has died away, as if killed by a cruel death.

“Don’t you?” tauntingly.  “Then I will tell you.  I saw you”—­he pauses as if to watch the changes of her face, to see when fear arises, but none does—­“in the arbour”—­he pauses again, but again no fear arises—­“with your cousin.”

He grows silent, studying her with eager eyes, as if expecting something; but nothing comes of all his scrutiny, except surprise.  Surprise, indeed, marks all her charming features.

“Well?” says she, as he stops, as if expecting more.

She waits, indeed, as one at a loss.

“Well?” He repeats the word with a wild mockery.  Could there be under heaven another woman so dead to all honesty?  Does she dare to think she can deceive him to the end?  In what a lovely form the evil can dwell!  “Well!” He brings down his hand with a little crash upon the table near her.  “I was there—­near that arbour.  I heard—­I heard all.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” says Tita slowly, colouring faintly.

“Sorry!  Is that all?  Do you know what it means—­what I can do?”

“I don’t see that you can do anything,” says she, thinking of her revelation to Hescott about Margaret.  “It is Colonel Neilson who might do something.”

“Neilson?”

“Yes, Colonel Neilson.”

“Are you mad?” says Sir Maurice, in a low tone, “to think you can thus deceive me over and over again?”

He draws back from her.  Disgust is in his heart.  Does she dream that she can pass off Neilson as her lover, instead of Hescott?  He draws a sharp breath.  How she must love Hescott, to seek thus to shield him, when ruin is waiting for herself!

“I am not mad,” says Tita, throwing up her head.  “And as to deceiving you—­Of course I can see that you are very angry with me for betraying Margaret’s secret to Tom; but, then, Tom is a great friend, and when he said something about Margaret’s being an old maid, I couldn’t bear it any longer.  You know how I love Margaret!—­and I told him all about Colonel Neilson’s love for her, and that she needn’t be an old maid unless she liked.  But as to deceiving you——­”

Rylton, standing staring at her, feels that it is the truth—­the truth only—­to which he is listening.  Not for a moment does he disbelieve her.  Who could, gazing on that small, earnest face?  And yet his silence breathes of disbelief to her.  She steps backwards, and raises her little hand—­a little hand very tightly clenched.