‘He is gone home. I would not come into the town with him. It is nothing, you know; no one must hear of it, for he must be free unless his parents consent—and I know they never can,’ she said, shaking her head, sadly, ‘but even then I shall have one secret of happiness—I shall know what has been! But oh! Mrs. Kendal, let me go away—’
‘Go away now?’ exclaimed Albinia.
‘Yes—it cannot be—here, in this house! Oh! it is outraging your kindness.’
‘No,’ said Albinia; ‘it is but letting us fulfil a very precious charge.’
Genevieve’s tears flowed as she said, ‘Such goodness! Mr. Kendal spoke to me in this way in the morning, when he was more kind and patient than I can express. But tell me, dearest madame, tell me candidly, is my remaining here the cause of any secret pain to him?’
With regard to him, Albinia could answer sincerely that it was a gratification; and Genevieve owned that she should be glad to await the letters from Ireland, which she tried to persuade herself she believed would put an end to everything, except the precious remembrance.
Sophy here came in with some tea. She had recollected that Genevieve had wandered all day without any bodily sustenance.
There was great sweetness in the quiet, grave manner in which she bent over her friend and kissed her brow. All she said was, ‘Papa had goes to fetch him to dinner. Genevieve, you must let me do your hair.’
It was in Genevieve’s eyes an astonishing fancy, and Albinia said, ‘Come away now, my dear; she must have a thorough rest after such a day.’
Genevieve looked too much excited for rest, but that was the more reason for leaving her to herself; and besides, it was so uncomfortable not to be able to be kind enough.