“Oh, I am glad, so very, very glad that I have met you! Oh, Charles! Charles! how could you leave me so long alone?”
Santley, utterly taken aback by this wild exhibition of feeling, stared at the girl in calm amazement; then he said impatiently, shaking her hands away—
“Edith, how many more times am I to tell you that these violent scenes of yours will be my ruin!”
But this time Edith was not to be cowed. She said—
“I cannot help it, Charles. You bring it on yourself by breaking every promise that you make to me.”
“Every promise? What promise? What have I done now?”
Edith looked up at him, her tearful eyes full of amazement as she said—
“Do you not remember? Have you really forgotten, dear, the last time we were together I asked you to do me justice—to reward my long patience by making me your wife? You said, ‘I will think of it. Yes, I think I will do as you wish, and I will let you know tomorrow.’ Well, Charles, to-morrow never came. I waited and waited, and you never sent a word. At last I could wait no longer. I have just been down to the village to post a letter, asking you to come to me.”
The clergyman’s brow darkened ominously, and a very angry light shone in his handsome eyes.
“It is ridiculous!” he exclaimed.