'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are Roy's feelings towards her.'
Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it—
'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.'
'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her heart swelled over her words; 'it was that—that letter, and your silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not—it was not possible to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.'
'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; 'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss Lambert.'
But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly.
'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own wilfulness.'
'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,' returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could not have told Heriot.'
'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him.
'Heartsease, it would have been better for you and me.'