"Then surely your heart cannot harden itself against me—cannot doom me to misery."
"My letter," Mary faintly murmured, gently but firmly repulsing the effort he made again to take her hand.
"Oh! that abominable story, cooked up against me, which you are so ready to believe—Olivia will explain...."
"God grant it!" she murmured, turning her eyes lighted with a brightened expression on his face; but oh! for one calm, clear, truthful glance in return.
Again painfully she averted her head, and saying faintly:
"I will go to Olivia," moved slowly towards the door. Eugene did not attempt to stay her departure, only darkly eyeing her retreating footsteps, he suffered her to leave the room without stirring from the spot whereon he stood.
Slowly and heavily she ascended the familiar staircase to Mrs. de Burgh's dressing-room. Her cousin, still lying on the sofa, started with affected surprise at her appearance, and stretched out her arms to receive her.
Pale, cold, and silent Mary suffered the embrace, then sinking on a seat, covered her face with her hands, sobbing forth:
"Olivia, this was cruel; this was unkind—untrue; I came here trusting to your word. Where is Louis? he surely would not think this right, would not have allowed me to be drawn into such a distressing position."
"My darling Mary, what do you mean? You have not fallen in with Eugene, I hope? Well, that is too bad of him; and he promised so faithfully that he would leave an hour ago. One of the children let out that you were coming, and you know there is no managing lovers in a case like this; the poor fellow is half mad with wretchedness on your account. However, go he shall, dear, if you wish it—pray make yourself easy on that point. You must have some tea; you are exhausted after your journey; and then we shall be able to talk comfortably together. No one shall interrupt us. Louis has not come home yet, but I expect him every moment; he will be so charmed to see you."