"Lady Harriet! I daresay," said Molly, indignantly.
"I don't know," said Cynthia, wearily. "I didn't care at the time,
and I don't care now; for she went on to say there was a very pretty
widow too, who made desperate love to him. He had often laughed with
them at all her little advances, which she thought he didn't see
through. And, oh! and this was the man I had promised to marry, and
gone into debt to, and written love-letters to! So now you understand
it all, Molly."
"No, I don't yet. What did you do on hearing how he had spoken about
your mother?"
"There was but one thing to do. I wrote and told him I hated him, and
would never, never marry him, and would pay him back his money and
the interest on it as soon as ever I could."
"Well?"
"And Mdme. Lefevre brought me back my letter,--unopened, I will say;
and told me that she didn't allow letters to gentlemen to be sent by
the pupils of her establishment unless she had previously seen their
contents. I told her he was a family friend, the agent who managed
mamma's affairs--I really could not stick at the truth; but she
wouldn't let it go; and I had to see her burn it, and to give her my
promise I wouldn't write again before she would consent not to tell
mamma. So I had to calm down and wait till I came home."
"But you didn't see him then; at least, not for some time?"
"No, but I could write; and I began to try and save up my money to
pay him."
"What did he say to your letter?"
"Oh, at first he pretended not to believe I could be in earnest; he
thought it was only pique, or a temporary offence to be apologized
for and covered over with passionate protestations."
"And afterwards?"
"He condescended to threats; and, what is worse, then I turned
coward. I couldn't bear to have it all known and talked about, and
my silly letters shown--oh, such letters! I cannot bear to think of
them, beginning, 'My dearest Robert,' to that man--"
"But, oh, Cynthia, how could you go and engage yourself to Roger?"
asked Molly.
"Why not?" said Cynthia, sharply turning round upon her. "I was
free--I am free; it seemed a way of assuring myself that I was quite
free; and I did like Roger--it was such a comfort to be brought into
contact with people who could be relied upon; and I was not a stock
or a stone that I could fail to be touched with his tender, unselfish
love, so different to Mr. Preston's. I know you don't think me good
enough for him; and, of course, if all this comes out, he won't think
me good enough either" (falling into a plaintive tone very touching
to hear); "and sometimes I think I'll give him up, and go off to some
fresh life amongst strangers; and once or twice I've thought I would
marry Mr. Preston out of pure revenge, and have him for ever in my
power--only I think I should have the worst of it; for he is cruel
in his very soul--tigerish, with his beautiful striped skin and
relentless heart. I have so begged and begged him to let me go
without exposure."