“Yes,” said the girl, “he’s gone. He—he—went early to-night.”
“Why did he go so early?”
“He didn’t want to stay any longer.”
Maud was terrified. Her hand clutching the balustrade was trembling and icy. In her father’s lifetime she had known that she would never dare to tell of her engagement to Latimer. She would have ended by eloping. Now, the fear of her mother, who had always been the gentler parent, froze her timid soul, and even the joy of her love seemed swamped in this dreadful moment of confession.
“Did the count ask you to marry him?” said Bessie.
“Yes! and—” with tremulous desperation, “I said no, I couldn’t.”
“You said no! that’s not possible. You couldn’t be such a fool.”
“Well, I was, and I said it.”
“Come in here, Maud,” said her mother, standing back from the doorway; “we can’t talk sensibly this way.”
But Maud did not move.