He loved her, and in spite of her faults he would cherish her with tenderness; he had chosen her as his wife--chosen her, though she had rejected, injured him, in preference to the very many she felt so much more worthy than herself; but unalloyed happiness was hers only for a few fleeting minutes, he knew not the extent of her imprudence--how strangely and deeply she had been fascinated by the arts of Lord Alphingham.

Could he love, respect her as the partner of his life, did he know that?
and for a moment painfully did she long to conceal it from him, to prevent his ever knowing it; but no, her innate nobility and ingenuousness of character would not be thus trampled on.
She wept, and Lady Gertrude was startled, for those bitter tears were not the signs of joy.
"Do not condemn my weakness, dearest Gertrude," she said at length, struggling for composure.

"You do not know why I weep; you cannot guess the cause of tears at such a moment.

Yes, you are right; I do love your brother with an affection equal to his own, but I thought it would never pass my lips; for wilfully, blindly I had rejected the affection of his good and noble heart; I had intentionally caused him pain, banished him from his country and his friends, and my punishment was just.

I thought he would forget one so utterly unworthy, and the thought was agony.