“Yes, but—I mean—No, dash it, Kitty—!”
“And it will be you, whom I have always believed to be the kindest of my cousins—at least, you are not indeed my cousin, for I am quite alone in the world, but I have ever regarded you as my cousin—it will be you who have inexorably slammed to the gates upon my aspirations!”
“Done what?” demanded Freddy.
“Condemned me to a life of misery and—and of indigent old age!”
“No, that’s coming it too strong!” protested Freddy. “I never—”
“I should not have asked you to help me,” said Kitty, stricken by remorse. “Only it seemed to me that here, perhaps, was a chance offered me of escaping from my wretched existence! I see that it will not do! I beg your pardon, Freddy: pray do not think of it again!”
With these noble words, Miss Charing rose from the table, and retired to stand before the fire with her back to the room. A stifled sob, a sniff, the flutter of Mr. Standen’s maltreated handkerchief, bore witness to the courageous attempt she was making to suppress her tears. Mr. Standen regarded her bowed shoulders with dismay. “Kit! No, Kit, for God’s sake—!” he said.
“Do not give it another thought!” begged Miss Charing, brave but despairing. “I know I am alone in the world—I have always known it! It was stupid of me to suppose that there was one person to whom I might turn! There is no one!”
Horrified, Mr. Standen uttered: “No, no, I assure you—! Anything in my power—! But you must see, my dear girl—dash it, it’s impossible!”
Ten minutes later Miss Charing, restored to smiles, was thanking him warmly for his exceeding kindness. “And perhaps we ought to return to Arnside,” she suggested. “I must say, Freddy, I shall like very much to see Hugh’s face when he learns that we are betrothed!”