"And what will Tedcastle say? For, in spite of all your arguments, Molly, I am sure he is devoted to you still."
"That must not matter. Our engagement, to all intents and purposes, is at an end, because"—sighing—"we shall never marry. He is too poor, and I am too poor, and, besides"—telling her lie bravely,—"I do not wish to marry him."
"I find it hard to believe you," says Letitia, examining the girl's face critically. "Do you mean to tell me you have ceased to care for him?"
"How do I know?"—pettishly, her very restlessness betraying the truth. "At times I am not sure myself. At all events, everything is at an end between us, which is the principal thing, as he cannot now interfere with my decision."
"Do not think you can deceive me," says Letitia, in a trembling tone. "Ah, how cruel it all is! Death when it visits most homes, leaves at least hope behind, but here there is none. Other women lose fortune, or perhaps position, or it may be love; but I have lost all; while you—with all your young life before you—would sacrifice yourself for us. I am not wholly selfish, Molly; I refuse to accept your offer. I refuse to take your happiness at your hands."
"My happiness is yours," returns Molly, tenderly; "refuse to let me help you, and the little shred of comfort that still remains to me vanishes with the rest. Letitia, you are my home now: do not reject me."
Two sad little tears run down her pale cheeks unchecked. Letitia, unable to bear the sight, turns away; and presently two kindred drops steal down her face, and fall with a faint splashing sound upon her heavy crape.
"It would be such a hateful life for you," she says, with a sigh.
"I don't think so. I like singing; and the knowledge that by it I was actually helping you—who all my life have been my true and loving sister—would make my task sweet. What shall I say to Signor Marigny, Letty?" with a sudden air of business. "He has a great deal to do with concerts and that; and I know he will assist me in every way."
"Tell him you are about to sacrifice your love, your happiness, everything that makes life good, for your family," says Letitia, who has begun to cry bitterly, "and ask him what will compensate you for it; ask him if gold, or fame, or praise, will fill the void that already you have begun to feel."