“Edith, you have no more reasoning power than a child. Why could you not have waited? A matter like that required serious deliberation; it could, not be decided in a day.”
In point of fact, he had never once deliberated over the matter at all. Having comfortably got rid of Edith that night, he had dismissed both the girl and the subject of their conversation entirely from his mind. It was not necessary to tell her this, however. So when, after waiting to hear more from him, she asked quietly, “Have you considered, Charles? Have you decided?” he answered—
“Yes. After thinking of it very deeply, and after having considered it from every point of view, I have decided it would be much better for us-both—to wait!”
She started, and the hand which lay on his arm trembled violently.
“No; you have not decided—that!” she exclaimed in a sort of gasp.
“I am not in the habit of lying to you, Edith.”
The girl clung piteously to his arm.
“No, no; I did not mean that,” she exclaimed. “But if you have decided so, you will change your mind, dear, will you not? I have been very patient. I have waited and waited, because you wished it, dear; but now it is different. I can wait no longer!”
“I tell you, Edith, it will be better—for us both!”
“Charles, Charles!” exclaimed the girl piteously, trembling more and more, “we have others besides ourselves to think of. We must not, dare not, injure an innocent life which never injured us. If you will not repair the wrong which you have done to me, you must think of—of—the child!”