“Stargarde has been talking to me—she told me to explain to you. There were some things that I did not understand; and I think with her that one should love deeply the person that one marries.”
Mr. Armour concealed his astonishment. There was about the girl at his side a gentleness and frankness that always enveloped her like an atmosphere when she was fresh from Stargarde’s influence. He could not speak harshly to her, yet he was annoyed.
“I think,” he said gravely, “that you had better give this matter some further thought. There is a precipitancy about your entering into engagements and breaking them that I do not like.”
“Don’t you understand?” she said, with an eager little gesture. “It is this way: You have a calm and clear judgment, and much experience. You form your opinions slowly. I am young and rash, and, as Stargarde says, I have made a mistake that many another woman has made. It is a good thing to be married, but I did not think long enough about the suitability of, of——”
“Of Captain Macartney, I suppose,” said Mr. Armour dryly. “What will he say to this abrupt dismissal?”
“He will understand,” said Vivienne; “he is good and kind. I do not dread telling him half as much as, as—you might fancy I would.”
Mr. Armour noted her confusion of thought. “Or half as much as you dreaded telling me,” he said; “am I right?”
“You are,” said Vivienne vivaciously; “yet, if I may say a word in my own defense, it is that my haste in entering into this engagement was to please you.”
“Indeed,” curtly; “then I am to be made the scapegoat?”
Vivienne was wounded by his tone, and made no reply to him.