He hesitated. He was on the point of telling her of his discovery and demanding an explanation, but he decided that such a course might be indiscreet.
"Well," he replied, "I had reason for believing so."
"What was your reason?" she inquired, breathless with anxiety, as if half fearing his reply.
He had determined not to tell her the truth.
"Oh, a very foolish one," replied he, with a laugh. "It was a mere fancy."
"Only a fancy," she said dreamily. "Are you sure it was nothing more?"
"Why are you so anxious to know?" he demanded, raising her hand to his lips.
"It's feminine curiosity, I suppose," she said, smiling.
"Well, then, I assure you it was only an absurd notion that somehow took possession of me."
"An absurd notion," she echoed absently. "Why, of course it is! How could I have known your brother when I have been so little in England?"
"You might have met him in society."
"No; believe me, to my knowledge I have never seen him. If I had, what difference could it make?"
"If you entertained any affection for him"—
"What nonsense you are talking to-day, Hugh," she interrupted, with a little derisive laugh. "I really believe you are jealous."
"Perhaps I am," he admitted; "but, you see, I love so well that any such shortcoming you really must excuse."
He laughed inwardly at the glibness of his invention.
But her manner had suddenly changed.
"You will love me always, will you not, Hugh?" she whispered earnestly.
