“Yes; and about that dreadful day when you all thought I intended to go to Cuba.”
“Rose, I never have understood that affair.”
“And yet, without understanding it, every one, even you, thought the very worst of me.”
“Then why did you not explain?”
“I don’t know. I was too angry. I felt wicked enough to let you all think whatever you chose. And then baby was dead, and Antony treated me as if I were her murderer.”
“You did not intend, however, to go to Cuba?”
“No more than you intended to go.”
“What took you to the steamer then?”
“Mr. Duval had some letters—foolish, imprudent letters—and I was miserable about them; because whenever I did not meet him, or send him money, he threatened to show them to Antony. He promised, as he was going to Cuba, to give them to me for $500. I had only three days to procure the money, and I did 281 not succeed in getting it until noon of the last day. Then I went to the Astor House, where Mr. Duval was waiting for me, and because I wanted to keep him in a good temper, I took lunch with him. He said he would give me the letters after lunch. I did not take but two glasses of wine, yet they made me feel strange, and when I was told that his luggage had all gone to the steamer, and that I must go there for the letters, I could not help crying. When Adriana spoke to me, I was begging for my letters, and he was urging me to go to Cuba with him. He wanted my money, mamma, and I knew it. He was cruel to me, and I had become afraid of him. While he was talking, I was listening for the bell to warn people ashore, and I should have fled at the first sound.”
“He might have prevented you, Rose. My dear, what danger you were in!”