"Silence!" And the maiden, erst so gentle and loving, stamped her foot imperiously. "Silence! I will hear no more. Enough that you wish to be free. Go!—" her voice softened—"Go! And may you never feel—"
The maiden lost the self-control which, by a powerful effort, she had thus far been enabled to maintain. Her utterance was choked, and the tears came gushing from her eyes. Quickly turning away, she left her false lover alone in the room where their exciting interview had been held. Dunbar hurried from the house in no very happy frame of mind, yet feeling that a weight had been taken from his bosom. He was no longer betrothed in marriage to one who would have hindered his upward movement. He was free, and, even in his shame, rejoiced in his freedom.
When Mary Lee entered her own chamber, her face was ashy pale, her eyes almost fixed, and her frame quivering with agitation. She had just sufficient strength to reach her bed, and sink down upon it with a moan of anguish. It was after midnight before she arose from her prostrate position, and then it was merely to lay aside her outer garments, and sink back again upon the bed in helpless abandonment of feeling.
Instead of returning to the family with whom she was engaged as sempstress, Mary Dunbar, when she left her friend, went to her father's house, and there waited until her brother came home, which he did not long after. Her mind was made up to speak to him freely on the subject of Mary Lee.
"Can I say a few words to you alone, Lawrence?" she asked. And they withdrew from the rest of the family.
"On what subject?" the young man asked, as soon as they were alone.
"Mary Lee is the subject," she said, fixing her eyes steadily upon him.
The color mounted to his face as he replied—
"What of her, pray?"
"You have not visited Mary for some time."