"No!" she said, with decision. "No, Hubert—Mr. Lepel, I mean—that will not do!"
"What, Cynthia?"
"We are not engaged. We are really nothing to each other; I was wrong to forget that before."
"This is surely a new view on the subject, Cynthia!"
"Yes; it is the view I have taken ever since I thought it over. We will be friends, if you like—I will always be your friend"—and there came over her face an indescribable expression of yearning and passionate regret—"but we must remember that I shall be nothing more."
"Nothing more? Why, my darling, do you forget what you promised me—that at the end of two years——"
"If you were free—yes," she interrupted him. "But it was a foolish promise. You know that you are not likely to be free. You—you knew that when you told me that you loved me!" She set her teeth and gave him a look of bitter reproach.
"What does this mean?" said Hubert, flushing up to the roots of his hair. "I told you everything the next morning, Cynthia; and I acknowledged to you that I loved you only because I thought that I was too miserable a wretch for you to cast a sigh upon. You have changed since then—not I."
Cynthia suddenly rose from her chair.
"I hear the carriage," she said abruptly; "Madame is at the door. There is no use in continuing this conversation."