And he had loved her so! Looking into those tender eyes, he had
believed love and truth shone there; the dear face that had
blushed and smiled for him had looked so pure and guileless.
How long was it since he had held her little hands clasped within
his own, and, abashed before her sweet innocence, had not dared
to touch her lips, even when she had promised to love him? How
he had been duped and deceived! How she must have laughed at his
blind folly!
Who was the man? Some one she must have known years before.
There was no gentleman in Lord Earle's circle who would have
stolen into his grounds like a thief by night. Why had he not
followed him, and thrashed him within an inch of his life? Why
had he let him escape?
The strong hands were clinched tightly. It was well for Hugh
Fernely that he was not at that moment in Lionel's power. Then
the fierce, hot anger died away, and a passion of despair seized
him. A long, low cry came from his lips, a bitter sob shook his
frame. He had lost his fair, sweet love. The ideal he had
worshiped lay stricken; falsehood and deceit marked its fair
form.
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