"Yes, I choose Albert Fanning," I said. "I can never marry James Randolph."
"But why, why, why?" asked Jasmine.
CHAPTER XXIX
HAVE I LOST YOU?
I told her everything, not then, but on the evening of the same day. She came into my room where I was lying on a sofa, for I was thoroughly prostrated with grief for my mother and—and other great troubles, and she held my hand and I told her. I described Jane's anxiety in the boarding-house, the debts creeping up and up, the aspect of affairs getting more and more serious; I told her about Mrs. Fanning and Albert, and the chocolate-coloured brougham, and the drive to Highgate, and the rooms all furnished according to Albert's taste, and the garden, and the proposal he made to me there, and my horror. And then I told her about mother's gradual fading and the certainty that she would not live long, and the doctor's verdict, and the one caution impressed and impressed upon me—that she was to have no shock of any sort, that everything was to be made smooth and right for her.
I described, further, Jane Mullins' agitation, her despair, her difficulty in going on at all, the dreadful news which had reached us with regard to Jim, the almost certainty that he was drowned.
Then I told her of the awful day when I went to try and borrow a thousand pounds from the Duchess, and how I could not see the Duchess, for she was too ill to see any one, all on account of Jim's supposed death; and then I told her what I found when I came back—the awful greasy little man in the dining-room—the man in possession. I described his attitude that day at dinner, and the surprise and astonishment of the boarders; and then I explained how he had gone and why he had gone, and I told her of my visit to Albert Fanning in Paternoster Row, and what Albert Fanning had said, and how kind he was to me; and, notwithstanding his want of polish, how really chivalrous he was in his own way, and how really he loved me and wanted to help me. I made the very best of him, and I went on still further, and told her of the man who had burst into mother's presence in the drawing-room, and rudely demanded payment for his debt, and then how I had yielded, and told Albert Fanning that I would marry him, and how, after that, everything was smooth, and all the worries about money had disappeared as if by magic.
"I gave him my bond," I said at the conclusion. "I said that I would marry him at the end of a year, and he was satisfied, quite satisfied, and he paid up everything, and mother went to her grave happy. She was sure that all was well with me, and indeed I gave her to understand that all was very well, and she died; and never guessed that 17 Graham Square was an absolute, absolute failure—a castle in the clouds, which was tumbling about our heads."
I paused at the end of my story. Jasmine had tears in her eyes; they were rolling down her cheeks.
"Why didn't you come to me, Westenra?" she said; "my husband is very rich, and we would have lent you the money. Oh! to think that a thousand pounds could have saved you!"
"I did not think of you," I replied. "You must acknowledge, Jasmine, that you were cold and indifferent, and did not help me with a cheery word, nor with much of your presence, during my time in the boarding-house; and when the Duchess failed me, troubles came on too thick and fast to wait for any chance help from outside. I just took the help that was near, and in my way was grateful."