“Why not?” asked the incomprehensible Milly. “I am sure he is a great deal happier with matters left unsettled than he would have been if I had told him that I hated him; and that would not have been true either.”
“You told him that he might ask you again after he graduates, and you certainly ought not to allow him any shadow of hope when you know positively that you can never love him.”
What was my surprise to hear Milly reply very seriously: “But I don’t know that, Tib. Four years may change everything. Stacey may not care a bit for me at the end of his college course. In that case, I’m sure I shan’t repine. But then, again, if he should happen to hold out faithful, perhaps my stony heart may be touched by the spectacle of such devotion. Who knows?”
And Milly looked up archly, with a pretty blush that augured ill—for the old maids’ hall.
CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD CABINET TELLS ITS STORY.
A few weeks passed with no excitement except Cynthia’s withdrawal from the Amen Corner. Madame was very indignant when Mr. Mudge reported Cynthia’s part in inviting the boys to attend our Catacomb party, and assisting them in entering and disguising themselves. It was rumoured that Cynthia was to be publicly expelled as a terrible example to all would-be offenders. She remained closeted in her room, whence the sound of weeping and wailing could be heard behind her locked door, but she steadily refused all overtures of sympathy on our part. We waited upon Madame in a body, and begged her to pardon Cynthia. Madame replied that she would consider the matter, and we hurried back and shouted the hopeful news through Cynthia’s keyhole. There was no reply.
“Do you think she has killed herself?” Milly asked in an awestruck whisper.
I applied my ear closely and heard stealthy steps. “She merely wishes to be let alone,” I said; “perhaps we are a little too exuberant in our expressions of sympathy.”