"But, Gavan," she said, "what have I done?"
"Done, little girl? you've done nothing. It's all my fault. I've
lost heart over things lately, and it will only harm you if we keep
up this pretence of being engaged. Nothing can come of it."
"Why not? Why can't we wait?"
"Wait! To be stuck in Tarrong all my life among these people, and
up to my neck in debt! No, little woman, as soon as ever I can
get things squared up, I'm off out of this, and I dare say we'll
never see each other again. I've made a mess of things here, and
I'm off somewhere else."
It seemed almost incredible to her that a man could so throw up
the fight; and then a thought flashed into her mind.
"It is not because Miss Grant has come that you do this?"
He laughed with a well-simulated indifference.
"Miss Grant!" he said, "I have only seen her twice--that day on
the coach and last night."
She seemed to study the question, still holding his hands, and
looking up into his face. The light in the room was stronger, and
there were sounds as if some of the household were stirring.
"So we must say 'Good-bye!'" she said, "just because you are short
of money. Gavan, I would have thought more of you, had you told me
you were tired of me and were going in for the other girl. I think
I could have respected you at any rate; but to sneak out on the
story of not being able to afford it--"
His face darkened, and he began to speak, but she stopped him,
and went on in a passionless sort of voice. "Some one is coming,"
she said, "and we must say good-bye; and since you wish it, it is
Good-bye.' But I'm not a child, to change my fancies in a day, so
I won't promise to forget. And I think you have treated me very
badly, so neither will I promise to forgive. I had set my heart
on you, Gavan. You seemed to me--but there, it's no use talking.
I suppose I should be meek and mild, and--"
"But, Ellen--"
"No, don't interrupt me. It is the last talk together we shall
have. I suppose I can go governessing, or nursing, to the end of
the chapter. It seems a dreary outlook, doesn't it? Now go, and
remember that I do not forgive easily. I had built such castles,
Gavan, and now--" She slipped quietly from the room, and was gone.
Gavan Blake drove home, feeling a trifle uneasy. He had expected
some sort of outburst, but the curious way in which she had taken
it rather non-plussed him.
"She won't stick a knife in herself, I suppose," he mused. "Just
like her to do something unusual. Anyway, she has too much pride
to talk about it--and the affair had to come to an end sooner or
later."