"It does not wait for my permission," he answered bitterly.
"Ah, but what a pity! Must one moment's indiscretion interfere with all else in life? That is ridiculous. You have-what is the word?expiated! yes, that is it-expiated it, I know."
"The past can never be undone, madam."
"That, of course, is true," she nodded, with the air of a sage, "but it can be forgotten."
His hand flew out eagerly and dropped back to his side. It was hopeless. He could not tell her the truth and ask her to share his disgrace; he must bear it alone, and, above all, he must not whine. He had chosen to take Richard's blame and he must abide by the consequences. It was not a burden to be cast off as soon as it became too heavy for him. It was for ever-for ever. He forced his mind to grasp that fact. All through his life he must be alone against the world; his name would never be cleared; he could never ask this sweet child who sat before him with such a wistful, pleading look on her lovely face, to wed him. He looked down at her sombrely, telling himself that she did not really care: that it was his own foolish imagination. Now she was speaking: he listened to the liquid voice that repeated: "Could it not be forgotten?"
"No, mademoiselle. It will always be there."
"To all intents and purposes, might it not be forgotten?" she persisted.
"It will always stand in the way, mademoiselle."
He supposed that mechanical voice was his own. Through his brain thrummed the thought: "It is for Dick's sake . . . for Dick's sake. For Dick's sake you must be silent." Resolutely he pulled himself together.
"It will stand in the way-of what?" asked Diana.
"I can never ask a woman to be my wife," he replied.
Diana wantonly stripped a rose of its petals, letting each fragrant leaf flutter slowly to the ground.
"I do not see why you cannot, sir."
"No woman would share my disgrace."
"No?"
"No."
"You seem very certain, Mr. Carr. Pray have you asked the lady?"
"No, madam." Carstares was as white as she was red, but he was holding himself well in hand.
"Then-" the husky voice was very low, "then-why don't you?"
The slim hand against the tree trunk was clenched tightly, she observed. In his pale face the blue eyes burnt dark.
"Because, madam, 'twere the action of a-of a-"
"Of a what, Mr. Carr?"
"A cur! A scoundrel! A blackguard!"
Another rose was sharing the fate of the first.
"I have heard it said that some women like-curs, and-and-and scoundrels; even blackguards," remarked that provocative voice. Through her lashes its owner watched my lord's knuckles gleam white against the tree-bark.