To his surprise, Hyacinth suddenly took her hand from his, and broke out into a wild fit of weeping.
"My darling, what is it? Cynthy, what is the matter?"
She sat down upon a large moss-covered stone and wept as though her heart would break. The sight of those raining tears, the sound of those deep-drawn sobs and passionate cries filled him with grief and dismay. He knelt down by the girl's side, and tried to draw her hands from her face.
"Cynthy, you make me so wretched! Tell me what is wrong—I cannot bear to see you so."
Then the violence of her weeping abated. She looked at him. "Claude," she said, "I am so sorry I left home—it is all so wicked and so wrong. I must go back again."
He started from her. "Do you mean that you are sorry you have come with me, Hyacinth?"
"Yes, very sorry," she sobbed. "I must go back. I did not think of consequences. I can see them so plainly now. It is wicked to run away from home. That poor woman did it, and see what has come to her. Claude, I believe that Providence has placed that woman across my path, and that the words she has spoken are a warning message."
"That is all nonsense, Cynthy; there can be no comparison between the two cases. I am not a ruffian like that woman's husband."
"No you are not; but the step was wicked, Claude. I understand all now. Be kind to me, and let me go back home."