“Oh, my darling—my love, I do trust you. But you ought to tell.”
What Amethyst might have done in another moment, convinced as she was that she ought not to tell, is doubtful, but, before she could speak. Lady Haredale returned, and with her Tory and Kattern.
“Oh, Lucian,” said Tory, in her high drawling voice, “my lady says you think that Amethyst has secrets with Tony. So she has; she gave him a present from us. We bought him a purse with our own money. It was all quite correct, I assure you.”
“Is that true?” said Lucian, abruptly. Amethyst had started up, and he saw the startled horror in her eyes.—“Madam,” he said to Lady Haredale, while his young eyes flashed fire, “that is the story which was to be made up. I will leave you to improve upon it,” and he lifted his hat, and dashed away almost more rapidly than he had come.
Amethyst stood for a moment motionless; then she turned to her mother, and caught both her hands.
“Mother,” she cried, “your are ruining my life. I will never, never marry Lucian, while I am pledged to deceive him.—Never, not if he would marry me!”
Lady Haredale’s shallow sentimental nature fairly quailed before the passion in the girl’s eyes and voice, but she held to her point.
“Oh, nonsense, my dear, you are far too scrupulous. It’s not your secret; we must make it right somehow. Why, there were thousands of things I had to keep secret when I was married!”
“Yes, mother, I dare say there were,” said Amethyst, dropping her hands, and walking away across the grass.
Lucian’s angry eyes had pierced her heart, but the unveiling of her sweet mother’s real nature seemed to have laid it waste. Half an hour later, as she sat in her room, crushed and stupefied, not one dear thought able to lift itself up under the frightful weight, hot, eager hands caught hers, and Una’s voice sobbed out—