“I ruin your life! ah, you little know! When my life was given back to me, I was glad because it belonged to you,” said Cheriton, faltering in his earnestness.
“Then oh! Cherry, Cherry,” cried Ruth, suddenly turning on him and clasping her hands, “then give me back my foolish promise—forget it altogether—let us be friends as we were when I was a little girl. Oh, Cherry, forgive me—I cannot—cannot do it!”
“What can you mean?” said Cheriton, slowly, and with so little evidence of surprise that Ruth took courage to go on.
“Cherry!” she repeated, as if clinging to the name that marked her old relation to him; “Cherry, a long time ago—last spring, I was engaged to some one else—to your cousin; but it suited him—us—to say nothing of it at first. And oh! I was jealous and foolish, and we quarrelled, and I was in a passion, and thought to show him I didn’t care. And you came that day at Milford, and I knew how good you were, and you begged so hard I couldn’t resist you—you gave me no time. And then very soon he came back, and I knew I had made a mistake. I would have told you at once, indeed I would, but for your illness. How could I then?”
Cheriton stood looking at her, and while she spoke, his astonished gaze grew stern and piercing, till she shrank from him and turned away. Then he said, with a sort of incredulous amazement, with which rising anger contended,—
“Then you never meant what you said? When you told me that you loved me, it was false—you did not mean to give yourself to me? You kissed me to deceive me?”
“Oh, Cheriton!” sobbed Ruth, covering her face, “don’t—don’t put it like that. I was very—very foolish—very wicked, but it was not all plain in that way. Won’t you forgive me? I was so very unhappy! I thought you were always kind—”
“Kind!” ejaculated Cheriton. “There is only one way of putting it! Which is your lover, to which of us are you promised, to Rupert or to me?”
Anger, scorn, and a pain as yet hardly felt, intensified Cheriton’s accent. She had expected him to plead for himself, to bemoan his loss, and instead she shrank and quailed before his judgment of her deceit. His last words awoke a spark of defiance, and suddenly, desperately, she faced him and said, clearly,—
“To Rupert.”