"I fear there is something more than a difference between them," thought Miss Traynor, as the door closed upon the girl.
Holding the letter in her hand, Marion went out into the bright warm weather. The post-pillar, in which she had posted every line she had ever written to him, was at the end of the street. She walked down listlessly to the end of the street, mechanically raised her hand to the hole, and dropped the letter in.
It had no sooner escaped her fingers, and fallen with a hollow rattle down the pillar, than she shuddered; made a convulsive clutch at the mouth of the pillar, as though to snatch it back, then drew her figure together and hurried away.
She walked on until she found herself in Hyde Park. She went west, thinking of nothing, feeling nothing but a dead numbed sensation at her heart. She passed into Kensington Gardens, and there, selecting a quiet retired seat under the trees, sat down.
It was better here in the bright clear air, than in the small house, where she could not get away from her aunt's questioning face. Yet that questioning face would have to be answered some time. And what would the answer be?
All at once, as she put this question to herself, the full effect of that letter rushed in upon her mind.
What! was it all over? Had the simple act of dropping that letter into the pillar put an end for ever to all that had been between her and Charlie?
Was it all over now? All over, as though it never had been, except that there was the tormenting memory of the pleasant hours and dreams that had been, all the delicious sense of protection and companionship now withdrawn. Oh, blank indeed had life become! That small act of dropping those few lines into the pillar had cut her off for ever from him. She could not get her letter back--she could not now withdraw her words. If she had only waited until now! If she had only kept that letter by her until now, for an hour! There had been no need to post it so soon. If she had kept it till night, and then posted it, he would have received it next morning. That would have been time enough. She had loved him so long she might have waited a few hours longer. Oh, it was hard, hard, hard to give up all she had set her heart upon!
The tears ran down her face, and she sobbed quietly for awhile before she turned homeward.
That day she avoided her aunt as much as possible, and would not speak any more about the position of affairs between her and him. She had a headache, and went to her room and lay down for awhile.