The other, still speechless, conveyed "No."
"Don't," said Betty again. And slowly and very artistically the flood was abated. Lady St. Craye was almost calm, though still her breath caught now and then in little broken sighs.
"I am so sorry," she said, "so ashamed.—Breaking down like this. You don't know what it is to be as unhappy as I am."
Betty thought she did. We all think we do, in the presence of any grief not our own.
"Can I do anything?" She spoke much more kindly than she had expected to speak.
"Will you let me tell you everything? The whole truth?"
"Of course if you want to, but—"
"Then do sit down—and oh, don't be angry with me, I am so wretched. Just now you thought something had happened to Mr. Vernon. Will you just tell me one thing?—Do you love him?"
"You've no right to ask me that."
"I know I haven't. Well, I'll trust you—though you don't trust me. I'll tell you everything. Two years ago Mr. Vernon and I were engaged."