"Oh, I know it! And I knew it then. And I was unhappy enough about it. But oh, what could I do? I could not prevent his loving me, do what I would. I could not go away from the house, because I had no place on earth to go to. And least of all would I go to him and tell him the terrible story of my life. I would rather have died than have told that! I should have died of humiliation in the telling—I couldn't tell him! Now could I? Could I?"
"I suppose you had not the courage to do so."
"No, indeed I had not! Yet very often I told him, in a general way, that I was most unworthy of him. But he never would believe that."
"No; I suppose he believed you to be everything that is pure, good and heavenly. What a terrible reproach his exalted opinion of you must have been!"
"Oh, it was—it was!" she answered, hypocritically. "It was such a severe reproach that, having in a moment of weakness yielded to his earnest prayer and consented to become his wife, I soon cast about for some excuse for breaking the engagement; for I felt if it were a great wrong to make such an engagement it would be a still greater wrong to keep it. Don't you agree with me?"
"Yes, most certainly."
"Well, while I was seeking some excuse to break off the marriage Death stepped in and put an end to it. Perhaps then I ought to have left the house, but—I had no money to go with and, as I said before, no place to go to. And besides Emma Cavendish was overwhelmed with grief and could not bear to be left alone; and she begged me to come down here with her. So, driven by my own necessities and drawn by hers, I came down. Do you blame me? Do you blame me?" she coaxed, pathetically.
"No, I do not blame you for that. But," said the old man, gravely and sadly, shaking his head, "why, when you got here, did you turn eavesdropper and spy?"
"Oh, me!—oh, dear me!" sobbed the siren. "It was the sin of helplessness and cowardice. I dreaded discovery so much! Every circumstance alarmed me. Your arrival and your long mysterious conversation with madam alarmed me. I thought exposure imminent. I feared to lose this home, which, lonely, dreary, hopeless as it is to me, is yet the only refuge I have left on earth. I am penniless and helpless; and but for this kind family I should be homeless and friendless. Think if I had been cast out upon the world what must have been my fate!"
"What, indeed!" echoed the old man.