“I cannot promise that,” she said after a pause.
“Yes, yes, you can, dearest—my own love!” he cried; and I felt now as if I should like to open the window and step out on the balcony.
“No, I cannot promise that, John,” she repeated. “You must—we must wait.”
“Then it is as I say,” he cried, evidently springing up from her feet, and stamping up and down the room. “You are a cruel, cold, heartless girl, and I’ll come begging and pleading no more. Our engagement holds good,” he said bitterly; “and you shall name the day yourself, and we shall be a happy pair, unless I have blown out my brains before we’re wed.”
I heard the little drawing-room door close loudly, descending steps, and then the front door shut almost with a bang, and from where I stood I saw Mr Lister, looking very handsome and well dressed, with a bouquet in his button-hole, stride hastily down the street, cutting at imaginary obstacles with his cane, and as he turned the corner I heard from the next room a low moan, and Miss Carr’s voice, saying:
“God help and teach me! I am a wretched woman! How shall I act?”