“What else am I to do?” she asked piteously. “I have no other home; I could not go to The Holt now. Of course there is Hugo’s sister; but although she is angry with him, and tells me I am a little fool, yet she would never openly take my part against her brother. No, there is no escape for me, I must just live my life. Hugo hates me; over and over again, he has told me that he wishes I were dead!”
She sat down as she spoke, on a rustic seat, overcome by her emotions, and losing her self-control, buried her disfigured face in her hands. As Lumley stood looking at her, he felt ready to offer his life on the instant, and to fling his own plans and all fortune’s chances to the winds; but he did not attempt to soothe or console her; and she wept uninterruptedly for some little time; then, as her sobs ceased, and she became calmer, he said quietly,—though inwardly shaken with agitation:
“Listen to me, Letty. There is an escape for you. I have always loved you—yes—ever since the day that you came to Thornby, and I first saw you; you remember how we did the pulpit together, how you gave your very first dance to me—you are the only girl I ever cared about. I know this is a hackneyed saying, but it is absolutely true. I had nothing to marry on, nothing to offer you, but you were so young—barely seventeen, and I thought I would wait. I talked it over with my uncle, and asked if I might say a word to you. He said it would be madness; that you had no thought of—of—lovers, being a mere child, and that the Fenchurchs would never consent to a long engagement; then Blagdon saw you, and he came and snatched away my treasure. If he had made you happy, I could have forgiven him; but even when you were a bride, I seemed to see clouds. I return home, and I find that he treats you like a brute! The coward knows, that you have no man to protect you; no father or brother. Now what I want to say is, will you come away with me?—I know it sounds awful!”
She looked up at him with an expression of dismay, and uttered an inarticulate gasp.
“But let me explain.” As he went on steadily, the man’s self-reliance, instinct of possession and authority, became evident. “You will travel up to London and meet me there—only as a friend—leaving a letter for Blagdon. Tell him the truth. Tell him, you have gone away with me. I will not attempt to defend the suit. I shall leave England for six months, and at the end of that time return, and marry you.”
“And what about Cara?” she asked abruptly.
“You must leave the child here. I suppose Blagdon would hardly ill-treat an infant of that age; and no doubt his sister would receive her. Perhaps you might be allowed to keep her? I don’t know much about these sort of things. I only know, that I want you to break your bonds, and get a new start in life. Why you are barely twenty!—think of the fifty years that lie before you,—and have pity upon yourself!”
“To escape from Hugo—never to see him again—never to hear his voice, to meet his eyes, would be, oh, such overwhelming joy—such a relief! You cannot think how much I am afraid of him; sometimes he is like a lunatic, and I am terrified to be with him alone; and yet what can I do? How can anyone come between us—I am his wife.”
“I will come between you,” said the young man resolutely, “that is, if you care for me, Letty?”
“Yes I do; I’ve always cared,” she answered, in a tremulous voice. “But think of your father and Frances, my greatest friend, and Maudie Hesketh, and little Cara, to have a mother who ran away—and oh, imagine what all the people around would say!”