He saw that even her white brow grew
crimson.
"A friend of mine, my lord?" she exclaimed. "How can I? Surely you know
I am not of your rank--I am not one of the class from which you select
your friends."
"What nonsense!" he exclaimed. "If that is your only objection I can
soon remove it. I grant that there may be some trifling difference. For
instance, I may have a title; you--who are a thousand times more worthy
of one--have none. What of that? A title does not make a man. What is
the difference between us? Your beauty--nay, do not think me rude or
abrupt--- my heart is in every word that I say to you--your grace would
ennoble any rank, as your friendship would ennoble any man."
She looked up at him, and said, gently:
"I do not think you quite understand."
"Yes, I do," he declared, eagerly; "I asked the duchess yesterday who
you were, and she told me your whole story."
It was impossible for him not to see how she shrank with unutterable
pain from the words. The point-lace fell on the grass at her feet--she
covered her face with her hands.
"Did she? Oh, Lord Arleigh, it was cruel to tell it!"
"It was not cruel to tell me," he returned.
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