“Yes you did,” returned Walter vehemently; “he went away because he loved you and you would not love him—it was very cruel of you, and I hate you for it whenever I remember how unkind you have been,” and overcome by his feelings, the poor boy burst into tears.
A thousand confused thoughts flashed like lightning across Annie’s brain. What could he mean?—was she listening to the mere folly of idiocy, or could he indeed have any possible foundation for his assertion? Anxious to soothe him, she laid her hand caressingly upon his, while, replying rather to her own heart than to his last observation, she said—
“No, my poor Walter, he whom you so much regret never loved me.”
“Ah, but he did, though,” returned Walter positively, drying his tears—“I know it.” He spoke so decidedly that Annie, despite her reason, could not but feel curious to hear more, and turning away her head to hide her agitation, she asked in a low voice—
“How do you know?”
“If I tell you, you must never tell the General or anybody,” returned Walter—“people think I’m a fool, and I know I am not clever, and can’t learn like other boys, and sometimes I feel a weight just here,” and he pressed his hand to his forehead, “and then all my sense goes out—I wonder where it goes to, Annie—do you think it finds wings and flies up to heaven among the white angels? I think so sometimes, and then I long to be a bird and fly with it.” Too much interested to allow him to fall into a new train of thought, Annie recalled his wandering ideas by saying—
“You were talking about Mr. Arundel, Walter dear.”
“Oh yes, and about you, I remember,” resumed Walter. “I knew, at least I thought, he was very fond of you a long time ago, but I was not quite sure of it till one day when I dressed Faust up like a gentleman, with Mr. Arundel’s watch, and you took it off the dog’s neck, and then you threw your arms round him and kissed him as you did just now—that was what made me angry when I remembered about the first time—well, while you were hugging Faust, Mr. Arundel came to the door and saw you, though you did not see him, and his eyes danced and sparkled, and his mouth melted into such a sweet smile; he was so glad to see how fond you were of Faust, and then I knew he loved you, for if he had not, he would not have cared about it, you know. Then he went away and left me Faust, and I thought because he had left Faust he was sure to come back, but I know now that he left him to comfort me, and went away himself all alone. Then that stupid Mr.. Spooner came; he’s a great friend of Lord Bellefield’s, and one day they were talking together, and they fancied I did not attend to them, but I did though, for I knew they were talking about Mr. Arundel. Well, Mr. Spooner asked why he went away, and Lord Bellefield replied, ‘Why, if the truth must be told, he had the audacity (what does that mean?) to raise his eyes to my cousin Annie.’ Mr. Spooner questioned him further, and he informed him that Mr. Arundel had gone boldly to the General, and said he loved you.”
“Told my father so!” exclaimed Annie.
“Yes, so he said,” resumed Walter; “and the General told him you loved Lord Bellefield instead, and meant to be his wife; and then poor Mr. Arundel said he would go away, and so he did, but of course if you had loved him he would have stayed, and we should all have been so happy together. So you see, Annie, it was you that sent him away, and since I’ve known that I’ve hated you, and tried to keep Faust from loving you, only he will, and I can’t hate you quite always; but I never meant to tell you all this, and you must never tell Lord Bellefield, or he would be ready to kill me.”