“I want to forget everything, everyone. Listen, I must tell you—I don’t want to marry you, because I cannot bear it, because I’ve once loved—” she stopped; he waited—“I once loved someone else. I think he is dead to me—but I know if he were to call me I would go, even if I married you and he came. I have forgotten him sometimes, but it all comes back again and again.”
“I will make you love me—he is dead; he will never come. You will marry me, you will? Promise—you can’t draw back now.”
“I promise to marry you? I cannot forget so soon—”
“You promise?”
“Yes. Now you will have tea?”
“Mrs. Herbert,” said the maid.
“How are you?” cried Launa, with joy. An interruption just then was most convenient. “You have not been here for so long.”
Mr. Wainbridge could have borne a longer absence with philosophy. He gave Mrs. Herbert one glance, and looked again. She was looking handsome and flushed, yet the emotion which plainly affected her savoured not of joy nor of peace.
“I have not been here since you—how long is it since you were away?” said Mrs. Herbert. “Did you enjoy yourself? What were you doing? Skating?”
“It seems so long ago,” said Launa. “To-day has been so warm. Who could believe we have ever skated?”