"And now?" It was a hard question to put to her, and so unnecessary! "And now?"
"You have distrusted me somewhat. I begged you not to go to London. I begged you not to go."
"You cannot love two men." She looked into his face, as though imploring him to spare her. For though she did know what was coming,—though had she asked herself, she would have said that she knew,—yet she felt herself bound to disown Mr Gordon as her very own while Mr Whittlestaff thus tantalised her. "No; you cannot love two men. You would have tried to love me and have failed. You would have tried not to love him, and have failed then also."
"Then I would not have failed. Had you remained here, and have taken me, I should certainly not have failed then."
"I have made it easy for you, my dear;—very easy. Write your letter. Make it as loving as you please. Write as I would have had you write to me, could it have been possible. O, Mary! that ought to have been my own! O, Mary! that would have made beautiful for me my future downward steps! But it is not for such a purpose that a young life such as yours should be given. Though he should be unkind to you, though money should be scarce with you, though the ordinary troubles of the world should come upon you, they will be better for you than the ease I might have prepared for you. It will be nearer to human nature. I, at any rate, shall be here if troubles come; or if I am gone, that will remain which relieves troubles. You can go now and write your letter."
She could not speak a word as she left the room. It was not only that her throat was full of sobs, but that her heart was laden with mingled joy and sorrow, so that she could not find a word to express herself. She went to her bedroom and took out her letter-case to do as he had bidden her;—but she found that she could not write. This letter should be one so framed as to make John Gordon joyful; but it would be impossible to bring her joy so to the surface as to satisfy him even with contentment. She could only think how far it might yet be possible to sacrifice herself and him. She sat thus an hour, and then went back, and, hearing voices, descended to the drawing-room. There she found Mr Blake and Kattie Forrester and Evelina Hall. They had come to call upon Mr Whittlestaff and herself, and were full of their own news. "Oh, Miss Lawrie, what do you think?" said Mr Blake. Miss Lawrie, however, could not think, nor could Mr Whittlestaff. "Think of whatever is the greatest joy in the world," said Mr Blake.
"Don't make yourself such a goose," said Kattie Forrester.
"Oh, but I am in earnest. The greatest joy in all the world."
"I suppose you mean you're going to be married," said Mr Whittlestaff.
"Exactly. How good you are at guessing! Kattie has named the day. This day fortnight. Oh dear, isn't it near?"