"I had never thought of it," he said.
"And don"t believe it?"
"Not unless there was some other evidence to support the view."
She paused a minute and then began hesitatingly--
"My intention was--what I did not dream of owning to you--my intention was to try to induce you to fulfil your promise to Miss Hinton not solely on her account and yours (though partly). I love Cytherea Graye with all my soul, and I want to see her happy even more than I do you. I did not mean to drag her name into the affair at all, but I am driven to say that she wrote that letter of dismissal to you--for it was a most p.r.o.nounced dismissal--not on account of your engagement. She is old enough to know that engagements can be broken as easily as they can be made. She wrote it because she loved another man; very suddenly, and not with any idea or hope of marrying him, but none the less deeply."
"Who?"
"Mr. Manston."
"Good--! I can"t listen to you for an instant, madam; why, she hadn"t seen him!"
"She had; he came here the day before she wrote to you; and I could prove to you, if it were worth while, that on that day she went voluntarily to his house, though not artfully or blamably; stayed for two hours playing and singing; that no sooner did she leave him than she went straight home, and wrote the letter saying she should not see you again, entirely because she had seen him and fallen desperately in love with him--a perfectly natural thing for a young girl to do, considering that he"s the handsomest man in the county. Why else should she not have written to you before?"
"Because I was such a--because she did not know of the connection between me and my cousin until then."
"I must think she did."
"On what ground?"
"On the strong ground of my having told her so, distinctly, the very first day she came to live with me."
"Well, what do you seek to impress upon me after all? This--that the day Miss Graye wrote to me, saying it was better that we should part, coincided with the day she had seen a certain man--"
"A remarkably handsome and talented man."
"Yes, I admit that."
"And that it coincided with the hour just subsequent to her seeing him."
"Yes, just when she had seen him."
"And been to his house alone with him."
"It is nothing."
"And stayed there playing and singing with him."
"Admit that, too," he said; "an accident might have caused it."
"And at the same instant that she wrote your dismissal she wrote a letter referring to a secret appointment with him."
"Never, by G.o.d, madam! never!"
"What do you say, sir?"
"Never."
She sneered.
"There"s no accounting for beliefs, and the whole history is a very trivial matter; but I am resolved to prove that a lady"s word is truthful, though upon a matter which concerns neither you nor herself.
You shall learn that she _did_ write him a letter concerning an a.s.signation--that is, if Mr. Manston still has it, and will be considerate enough to lend it me."
"But besides," continued Edward, "a married man to do what would cause a young girl to write a note of the kind you mention!"
She flushed a little.
"That I don"t know anything about," she stammered. "But Cytherea didn"t, of course, dream any more than I did, or others in the parish, that he was married."
"Of course she didn"t."
"And I have reason to believe that he told her of the fact directly afterwards, that she might not compromise herself, or allow him to.
It is notorious that he struggled honestly and hard against her attractions, and succeeded in hiding his feelings, if not in quenching them."
"We"ll hope that he did."
"But circ.u.mstances are changed now."
"Very greatly changed," he murmured abstractedly.
"You must remember," she added more suasively, "that Miss Graye has a perfect right to do what she likes with her own--her heart, that is to say."
Her descent from irritation was caused by perceiving that Edward"s faith was really disturbed by her strong a.s.sertions, and it gratified her.
Edward"s thoughts flew to his father, and the object of his interview with her. Tongue-fencing was utterly distasteful to him.
"I will not trouble you by remaining longer, madam," he remarked, gloomily; "our conversation has ended sadly for me."
"Don"t think so," she said, "and don"t be mistaken. I am older than you are, many years older, and I know many things."
Full of miserable doubt, and bitterly regretting that he had raised his father"s expectations by antic.i.p.ations impossible of fulfilment, Edward slowly went his way into the village, and approached his cousin"s house.
The farmer was at the door looking eagerly for him. He had been waiting there for more than half-an-hour. His eye kindled quickly.
"Well, Ted, what does she say?" he asked, in the intensely sanguine tones which fall sadly upon a listener"s ear, because, antecedently, they raise pictures of inevitable disappointment for the speaker, in some direction or another.
"Nothing for us to be alarmed at," said Edward, with a forced cheerfulness.
"But must we rebuild?"
"It seems we must, father."
The old man"s eyes swept the horizon, then he turned to go in, without making another observation. All light seemed extinguished in him again.
When Edward went in he found his father with the bureau open, unfolding the leases with a shaking hand, folding them up again without reading them, then putting them in their niche only to remove them again.