"Well, since you are not particularly interested in him, I will tell you," was the careless reply. "I was engaged to Mr. Templeton myself, two winters ago—when I first came out, you know, dear! I suppose he thought I was wealthy, for Aunt Egerton dressed me elegantly, and lent me her diamonds. The summer after our engagement he came to the country to see me, and then he found out my poverty—for I will tell you candidly, Edith, my people are as poor as church mice—and, would you believe it? he went back and wrote me a letter, and told me he could not afford to marry for love—he must have an heiress or none. So our little affair was all over with then, you know."
She paused and looked away, for she knew that she had stabbed the girl's heart deeply, and she did not wish to witness the pain she had inflicted.
In a moment, however, Miss Wayland exclaimed, indignantly:
"Oh! Mrs. St. John, is it possible that Mr. Templeton could have treated you so cruelly and heartlessly?"
"It is quite true, Miss Wayland. If you doubt my word I give you carte blanche to ask my aunt, Mrs. Egerton, or even Mr. Templeton himself. You see I have the best reason in the world for accusing him of being a fortune-hunter."
The beautiful young girl did not think of doubting Mrs. St. John's assertion, although it caused her the bitterest pain.
There was an earnestness in the words and tones of the bride that carried conviction with them.
Miss Wayland sat musing quietly a moment, then she said, hesitatingly:
"May I ask if you are friends with Mr. Templeton now, Mrs. St. John?"