“No, no—I have promised, and there’s an end; and may God have mercy on me, for He alone knows how I shall perform what now I undertake! Forgive me, your ladyship, but I am very tired.”
Then her visitor rose.
“My dear girl,” she said, “my dear, dear girl, in asking all this of you I have done only what I believed to be my duty; and should you, on reflection, come to any different conclusion from that which you have just expressed, I can only say that I for one shall not blame you, and that, whatever the event, you will always have me for your friend.” And, moved to it by a sudden impulse, she bent down and kissed Joan upon the forehead.
“Thank you,” said Joan, smiling faintly, “you are too good to me. Do not distress yourself; I dare say that I should have come to the same mind if I had not seen you, and I deserve it all.”
Then Lady Graves went. “It was very painful,” she reflected, as she left the house. “That girl has a heart of gold, and I feel as though I had done something wicked, though Heaven knows that I am acting for the best. Why, there is that man Rock again, staring at the house! What can he be looking for? Somehow I don’t like him; his face and manner remind me of a cat watching a caged bird.”
Joan watched the door close behind Lady Graves, then, pressing her hands to her head, she began to laugh hysterically. “It is like a scene out of a book,” she said aloud. “Well, the dream has come to an end sooner than I thought even. I knew it would, so what does it matter? And now what am I to do?” She thought a while, then went to the table and began to write. She wrote thus:—
“DEAR SIR HENRY,—
“I have received your letter, but could not answer it before because I was so ill. I am very much honoured by what you say in it, but it is not to be thought of that a gentleman in your position should marry a poor girl like me; and, if you did, I dare say that we should both of us be very unhappy, seeing that, as they say in Bradmouth, pigeons can’t nest with crows. It seems, from what you tell me, that I have written you some stuff while I was ill. I remember nothing about it, but if so, you must pay no attention to it, since people often talk and write nonsense when they are off their heads. You will be glad to know that I hope to get well again soon, but I am still too sick to see anybody at present, so it will be no use your coming to London to call upon me. I do not mind my life here at all, and hope to find another situation as soon as I can get about. Thanking you again,
“Believe me
“Your affectionate