"I wrote"—he hesitated a moment, but what was the good of trying to "break" the news? "I wrote to tell you of my engagement——"
She started and stared at him.
"Your engagement! Your——Drake! What do you mean? Your engagement! To—to whom?"
"Sit down, Luce," he said gravely, tenderly, and he went to lead her to a chair; but she shook her hand free and stood, still staring at him blankly, her face growing paler.
"I wrote and told you all about it. I am engaged to Miss Lorton. You do not know her; but she is the young lady I met at Shorne Mills, the place in Devonshire——I was engaged to her then, but it was broken off, and we were separated for a time; but we met again——I am sorry, very sorry, that you did not get my letter."
Her face was perfectly white by this time, her lips set tightly. He feared she was going to faint; but, with a great effort she fought against the deadly weakness which assailed her.
"So that was what you wrote!" she breathed, every word leaving her lips as if it caused her pain to utter. "You—you—have deceived me."
"No, Luce," he said quickly.
"Yes, yes! When I left here you——Is it not true that you intended asking me to be your wife, to renew our engagement? Answer!"
She glanced up at him, her teeth showing between her parted lips.