"Because—because he loved me, and could not live without seeing me, because I—I—"
"Loved him," said the maid.
But Caroline had broken down wholly with this first passionate confession. The poor girl sank to a couch, flushed all over with such shame as only a woman of fine sensibilities can feel for that of which she has no reason to be ashamed at all.
"Oh! Eliza, how can you be so cruel?" she exclaimed, dropping her hands, and revealing a face of crimson, wet with tears. "I never meant to keep it from you."
"Of course, you never meant it, and you didn't do it, which is more. You supposed I didn't know. Men may be blind as bats—they usually are; and our Brown is worse than the commonality. But trust an old maid for spying out a love secret. It's like exploring a strange land for her, you know. Lord! Miss Carry, you can't keep a secret from Eliza Casey; but then, why should you? Isn't she bound to be your staunch friend forever and ever?"
These words opened a new source of anxiety to the really unhappy girl, who forgot her love-shame, and plunged at once into a new subject.
"Oh! Eliza, if you could help me. Madame is determined. That is, she wishes me to go on the stage."
"Well, you have been told that from the first."
"I know—I know; but it seemed so far off then, like death, or any other evil that you know will come, but cannot tell when. But now she says it must be at once. Oh! Eliza, I never can do it. The very fear of it makes me shudder."
"But why? I remember, when we first came out here, you had no other wish but to be like her—your mother, I mean. Like her! I would rather see you dead!"