"He has told me what has passed. He said that he had asked you to marry him, and you had—agreed." The bitterness of her wounded love was in her tone.
"I—had forgotten," she panted, "that—until one little careless thing he said brought it all back to me in such a flood. It was like drowning. Then you came, and—and——" The quavering, pitiful voice rose to a cry: "Mother, must I tell him everything?" She cowered down in the enfolding arms. "Mother, Mother, must I tell him?"
A great wave of pity surged out from the deep mother-heart that throbbed against her own. The deep, melodious voice answered with one word:
"No."
Amazement sat on the uplifted, woebegone face of the girl. The sorrowful eyes questioned the Mother's incredulously.
"You mean that you——"
She folded the slight figure to her. Her sorrowful eyes, under their great jetty arches, looked out like stars through a night of storm. Her greyish pallor seemed a thin veil of ashes covering incandescent furnace-fires. She rose up, lifting the slender figure. She said, looking calmly in the face:
"I mean that you are not to tell him. Upon your obedience to me I charge you not to tell him. Upon your love for me I command you—never to tell him! Kiss me, and dry these dear eyes. Put up your hair; a coil is loosened. He is waiting for us! Come!"