“But there is one promise that I do wish to beg of you,” she resumed, mastering her emotion sufficiently to speak. “If—if you should marry, and your choice falls upon one—upon her—then, in that case, do not seek to have Meta home; let her remain always with Cecil.”
A pause, broken by George. “Of whom do you speak, Maria?”
The same laboured breathing; the same cruel agitation; and they had to be fought with before she could bring out the words.
“Of Charlotte Pain.”
“Charlotte Pain!” echoed George, shouting out the name in surprise.
“I could not bear it,” she shivered. “George, George! do not make her the second mother of my child! I could not bear it; it seems to me that I could not even in my grave bear it! Should you marry her, promise me that Meta shall not be removed from Ashlydyat.”
“Maria,” he quietly said, “I shall never marry Charlotte Pain.”
“You don’t know. You may think now you will not, but you cannot answer for yourself. George! she has helped to kill me. She must not be Meta’s second mother.”
He raised her face so that he could see it, his dark blue eyes met hers searchingly, and he took her hand in his as he gravely spoke.
“She will never be Meta’s second mother: nay, if it will be more satisfactory, I will say she never shall be. By the heaven that perhaps even I may some day attain to, I say it! Charlotte Pain will never be Meta’s second mother, or my wife.”