“Olivia—Miss Vanley! Forgive me! Forgive me! I—I was mad! I forgot—I—I forgot! Forgive me and forget every mad word——”
He hung his head.
She looked at him, a look of terrible questioning. He had called her his love, had held her in his arms, and now he asked her to forget.
She drew herself up, white and trembling, but strong in her woman’s pride.
“Forget! Yes!” she said. “But not forgive! You—you should have waited until—until I told you that I have promised to be Bartley Bradstone’s wife, Mr. Faradeane!”
Then, drawing her skirts close, as if to avoid touching him, she swept by him, and left him standing with bowed head and heaving chest.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FUTURE SON-IN-LAW.
It was the first great agony in Olivia’s life. White to the lips, quivering with the shame which only a pure-hearted girl whose love has been repulsed can feel, she made her way homeward.
It was easy enough to carry her head erect, and to assume a proud and haughty mien while she was within Faradeane’s sight; but as she neared the Grange she felt herself drooping, and she was quivering and trembling in every limb as she entered the hall.
She was ascending the great staircase on her way to her room, to give vent to her pent-up feelings in secure solitude, when a footman came up to her.