“No! no! I can speak to no one else, and not even to you unless you promise not to repeat a single word. Sometimes I am so miserable! I never intended to marry Arthur—never for a moment; but he was very nice to me—and I know you will be shocked, Norah, but I wanted him to go on being attentive, and sometimes I did pretend I liked him a little bit, when he seemed discouraged, or as if he were beginning to care less than he used. Then that day on the river he asked me to marry him, and I said No! I was horrified at the idea, and I tried to refuse him, I really did, but he looked so miserable—I couldn’t bear to see him. I was quite happy for a little time after that, and when he was away I longed for him to come back; but since then father and Miss Carr have been so cross; there have been such worries with the house, and workmen, and dressmakers, that I have felt sometimes as if I would give the world to run away and hide, and never see any of them again!”
Norah sat motionless, gazing at her sister in horrified silence. Her heart beat in quick, painful throbs—even Rex himself was forgotten in the shock of hearing her worst fears confirmed in Lettice’s own words. Unhappy! within three weeks of her marriage, with presents arriving by every post, the wedding breakfast ordered, the guests bidden to the church! It was some time before she could command her voice sufficiently to speak.
“But—Lettice! If you were happy at first, perhaps you are only miserable now because you are tired and overdone. I think even if I were going to marry Rex, I should feel sad the last few weeks when I thought of leaving father and the old home, and all the rest of you. It seems only natural. It would be rather heartless if one felt differently.”
“Do you think so, Norah—do you?” queried Lettice eagerly. “Oh, I am so glad to hear you say that! I have said so to myself over and over again, but I thought I ought to be happy. I have been so wretched. That night when you thought I had toothache—”
“I know. But I was afraid it was that. But, Lettice, if you are not satisfied it is not too late even now. You could tell Mr Newcome.”
But Lettice gave a shriek of dismay. “Oh, never, never! I daren’t even think of it, Norah. The house is ready—all the furniture—my dresses—the wedding presents! I could never, never break it off. Poor Arthur would be broken-hearted, too, and his mother would be so angry; she would never let Madge speak to me again. Oh, no! I feel better already for talking to you. I get nervous, and imagine things that are not true. I shall be very happy—of course I shall be happy. Arthur is so kind—and the house is so pretty. Don’t look so miserable, Norah dear; indeed, indeed, I shall be all right.”
“I hope so; but, Lettice, do think well over it while there is time. It would be terrible to have to break off your engagement now; but, at the worst, all the gossip and upset would be over in two or three months, and if you married it would be for your whole life. Father would be angry, but I would help you. I would stay with you, Lettice, and help you every minute of the time.”
“I know you would, I know you would.” Lettice spoke in a quick, breathless whisper; her eyes were fixed as if she were a prisoner looking through the barred window and trying to summon up courage to escape—then a shudder shook the slight shoulders, and she jumped up, holding out her hands with a gesture of dismay.
“Oh no, no! Don’t talk of anything so dreadful. Arthur is coming on Saturday, and I shall be quite happy. I am dull because I have not seen him for so long, but you will see how bright I am when he is here! I was very weak and foolish to speak as I did, but I can trust you, Norah. You have promised not to tell.”
“Yes, I have promised.” Poor Norah was only too willing to be convinced, and surely what Lettice said was reasonable enough. She would wait, at any rate, until Saturday before making any further attempt to persuade her sister to a step which must bring so much suffering and humiliation in its train.