’I want you to answer that, Lord Silverbridge.  I have told you that I would have no skeleton in the cupboard.  Down at Matching, and before that at Killancodlem, I appealed to you, asking you to take me as your wife.’

‘Hardly that.’

’Altogether that!  I will have nothing denied what I have done,—­ nor will I be ashamed of anything.  I did do so,—­even after this infatuation.  I thought then that one so volatile might perhaps fly back again.’

‘I shall not do that,’ said he, frowning at her.

’You need trouble yourself with no assurance, my friend.  Let us understand each other now.  I am not now supposing that you can fly back again.  You have found your perch, and you must settle on it like a good domestic barn-door fowl.’  Again he scowled.  If she were too hard upon him he would certainly turn upon her.  ’No; you will not fly back again now;—­but was I, or was I not, justified when you came to Killancodlem in thinking that my lover had come there?’

‘How can I tell?  It is my own justification I am thinking of.’

’I see all that.  But we cannot both be justified.  Did you mean me to suppose that you were speaking to me words in earnest when there,—­sitting in that very spot,—­you spoke to me of your love.’

‘Did I speak of my love?’

’Did you speak of your love!  And now, Silverbridge,—­for if there be an English gentleman on earth I think you are one,—­as a gentleman tell me this.  Did you not even tell your father that I should be your wife?  I know you did.’

‘Did he tell you?’

’Men such as you and he, who cannot even lie with your eyelids, who will not condescend to cover up a secret by a moment of feigned inanimation, have many voices.  He did tell me; but he broke no confidence.  He told me, but did not mean to tell me.  Now you also have told me.’

‘I did.  I told him so.  And then I changed my mind.’

’I know you changed your mind.  Men often do.  A pinker pink, a whiter white,—­a finger that will press you just half an ounce the closer,—­a cheek that will consent to let itself come just a little nearer-!’

’No; no; no!  It was because Isabel had not easily consented to such approaches!’

’Trifles such as these will do it;—­and some such trifles have done it with you.  It would be beneath me to make comparisons where I might seem to be the gainer.  I grant her beauty.  She is very lovely.  She has succeeded.’

‘I have succeeded.’

’But;—­I am justified, and you are condemned.  Is it not so?  Tell me like a man.’

‘You are justified.’

’And you are condemned?  When you told me that I should be your wife, and then told your father the same story, was I to think it all meant nothing?  Have you deceived me?’

‘I did not mean it.’

’Have you deceived me?  What; you cannot deny it, and yet have not the manliness to own it to a poor woman who can only save herself from humiliation by extorting the truth from you!’