Mr. Fanshawe left Vienna a few weeks after that, and I have never seen my preux chevalier since." She sighed and looked steadily across at Carstares. "And you-you are so like him!"
"You think so, madam?" was all he could find to say.
"I do, sir. And something more, which, perhaps, you will deem an impertinence. Is Anthony your brother?"
The suddenness of the attack threw Carstares off his guard. He went white.
"Madam!"
"Please be not afraid that mine is the proverbial woman's tongue, sir. It does not run away with me, I assure you. When I saw you the other night for the first time, I was struck by the resemblance, and I asked my partner, Mr. Stapely, who you were. He told me, and much more beside, which I was not at the time desirous of hearing."
"Trust Will Stapely!" exclaimed Richard, and mentally cursed the amiable gossip-monger.
"Among other things he told me of your elder brother-who-who-in fact, he told me the whole story. Of course, my mind instantly leapt to my poor Sir Anthony, despite that in appearance he is younger than you. Was I right?"
Richard rose to his feet and walked away to the window, standing with his back to her.
"Ay!"
"I was sure of it," she nodded. "So that was why he would not speak of England? Poor boy!"
Richard's soul writhed under the lash of her pity.
"So he will always be outcast," she continued "Alone, unhappy, without friends-"
"No!" he cried, turning. "'Fore Gad, no, madam!"
"Will society-cruel, hard society-receive him, then?" she asked.
"Society will-one day-receive him, Mrs. Fanshawe. You will see."
"I long for that day," she sighed. "I wish I had it in my power to help him-to repay in part the debt I owe him."
At that he lifted his head.
"My brother, madam, would count it not a debt, but an honour," he answered proudly.
"Yes," she smiled. "You are like him; when you speak like that you might almost be he."
"He is worth a thousand of me, Mrs. Fanshawe!" he replied vehemently, and broke off, staring down at the table.
"And his name?" she asked softly.
"John Anthony St. Ervine Delaney Carstares," he said, "Earl of Wyncham."
"So the Anthony was real! I am so glad, for he would always be Anthony to me."
There was a long silence, broken at last by the lady.
"I fear I have made you sad, Mr. Carstares. You will drink a dish of Bohea with me, before you go? And we will not speak of this again."
"You are very good, madam. Believe me, I am grateful to you for telling me all that you have. I beg you will allow me to wait on you again ere long?"