"Forgive my speaking so rudely," he said with a forced smile and attempt
to recover his self-control, "but you have ruined me unless you deny
that I told you anything. It was a joke--an extravagance that I had
forgotten; at least, it was a confidence between you and me that you
have foolishly violated. Say that you misunderstood me--that it was a
fancy of your own. Say anything--he trusts you--he'll believe anything
you say."
"He HAS believed me," said Grace, almost fiercely, turning upon him with
the paper that Rushbrook had given her in her outstretched hand. "Read
that!"
He read it. Had he blushed, had he stammered, had he even kept up his
former frantic and pitiable attitude, she might at that supreme moment
have forgiven him. But to her astonishment his face changed, his
handsome brow cleared, his careless, happy smile returned, his graceful
confidence came back--he stood before her the elegant, courtly, and
accomplished gentleman she had known. He returned her the paper, and
advancing with extended hand, said triumphantly:--
"Superb! Splendid! No one but a woman could think of that! And only one
woman achieve it.
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