“Don’t cry,” she said once or twice, coming to cling to me. “O don’t! It has to be.”
“Maimie, I don’t think I can let you go like this.”
“But you must,” she said. “It is for Uncle’s sake, you know. I must see if things are going wrong, and if they can be put right. And by-and-by,—oh, it doesn’t do to look forward. We must trust for by-and-by.”
Not too much time was allowed. Half-an-hour had scarcely passed, when Churton’s steps sounded in the hall. Once more Maimie threw herself upon me, clinging passionately.
“Aunt Marion, it is hard to go; but I must; it does seem right. If I could but have seen dear, dear Uncle Robert again! And poor Jack,—you must give my love to him. Don’t tell him a word of that—you know—what I said to father about—about marrying.”
“No, darling,” I said; “I will not.”
“It was the only thing that really brought him to what I wanted. And it was true, wasn’t it?”
“True that you could—perhaps—make poor Jack happy?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. It was true that more than one wants to marry me.”
“And the other—is it not true, Maimie?”