Again she raised her troubled eyes to his face, and said sadly—
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Then I will tell you, Edith. Your cousin, a hot-headed, ill-mannered youth, has thought fit to take upon himself the part of protector, or guardian, of your happiness. In this capacity he paid me a domiciliary visit yesterday, and treated me to some most violent abuse. He threatened to make known to the public the relations between us. I advised him to think it over, for your sake!”
“My cousin—Walter Hetherington, do you mean?”
“Most certainly.”
“But how does he know? how has he learned?”
“From you, I suppose.”
“No; it is not from me,” returned Edith, whose listlessness was fast disappearing. “I have said nothing; I have never even mentioned your name to him. It must be known; it must be talked of in the village. Oh, Charles, spare me! Keep your promise to me, for God’s sake! Any open disgrace would be more than I could bear. I should die.”
The girl, overcome by her emotion, had forgotten for the moment that their present interview was a perfectly public one. The clergyman coldly reminded her of the fact. Then, after she had forced upon herself a composure which she was far from feeling, he continued—“You had better understand, Edith, once and for ever, that whatever my conduct may be, I do not choose to have it questioned by this exceedingly officious young man. A repetition of the scene of yesterday I will not bear. And as it is evident to me that my actions are under surveillance, I must refuse either to see or hear from you again, until that young man has removed himself from the village.”
“Charles, you surely don’t mean that?” exclaimed the girl.