How It All Came Round

by L. T. Meade

"It shall be, Charlotte; we will marry like that on the twentieth. I will manage it with your father."

"No John! no, my dearest, my best beloved, I cannot be your wife. Loving you as I never—never—loved you before, I give you up; it is worse than the agony of death to me. But I give you up."

"You postpone our marriage during your father's lifetime?"

"I postpone it—I do more—I break it off. Oh! John, don't look at me like that; pity me—pity me, my heart will break."

But he had pushed her a little away from him. Pale as death he rose to his feet. "Charlotte! you are deceiving me; you have another reason for this?"

"If you will have it so," she said.

"You are keeping a secret from me."

"I do not say so, but you are likely enough to think this," she repeated.

"Can you deny it?"

"I will not try, I know we must part."