“Mortification?” she said. “Yes, of course I know there was a good deal of that in it;” and her colour deepened. “But, that couldn’t have been the worst of it. I was—I had got to be very fond of him—of the person it was all about.”
“Naturally so,” said the invalid. “I don’t see how you could have helped it. And he deserved it. You need not feel ashamed of having cared for a man such as—as you describe. But—yes, I think the mortification was the worst of it, and the part that has left you so sore and morbid. I don’t think—and remember you told me to speak plainly—you can have been what is called ‘in love’ with him. You were more in love with the idea of it all. The sort of romance of it, and the girlish pride in being so quickly chosen, and your mothers gratification too.”
“It is true,” said Imogen, “that at the very first, when I thought it was really going to be, I wasn’t at all sure if I was glad or not. I was more frightened and worried than glad. But mamma said girls often feel as if they didn’t know their own minds.”
“Perhaps; but not exactly as you felt. Then there is another thing. I think and believe you would be capable of a very true and unselfish love. Now, if yours for him had been like this, it would not have spoilt your life hitherto as you tell me it has been spoilt. You would have been thankful to know the mistake had not caused him suffering. Oh, my child, that is the bitterest, to know that we have been the cause, however innocently, of sorrow to those we love better than ourselves!”
Her words and manner almost overawed Imogen. But after a little pause she replied:
“No,” she said, honestly, “I certainly did not care for him like that. I was even almost glad to think he had suffered a little. For though, of course, he was not the least atom in the world in love with me, he was unselfish. I know he was dreadfully sorry for me. But, after all, if it was more the mortification than—than any better feeling, how does that help me?”
“Because it is so clearly wrong—even ‘lowering,’ to use your own word—and it should be and must be so possible for you to throw it off and start afresh.”
Imogen raised her head; there was something inspiriting in the last words.
“What should I do?” she asked gently, but eagerly too.
And an earnest consultation followed.