“But I gave the letter into your uncle’s hands,” returned Lionel. “He promised faithfully that he would give it you.”
“He did not give it me,” answered Edith.
“Perhaps he kept it back because he thought it better that I should not see it.”
“He had no right to do anything of the kind,” said Lionel, sternly. “The letter was sacredly entrusted to him, and ought as sacredly to have been delivered to you.
“Lionel, my uncle is no longer with us,” said Edith, gently. “You and I are together again. That redeems all. Let us never say another word about the letter.”
“What a villain, what a mean wretch, you must have thought me,” cried Lionel impulsively, “to break off my engagement without assigning you any reason! Without even a single word of explanation!”
“I thought you nothing of the kind,” said Edith, with decision. “I knew you too well not to feel sure that you must have good and sufficient reasons for acting as you did. Although you did not tell me what those reasons were—whatever may have been my disappointment at your silence—my faith in you never wavered.”
“But when weeks and months passed away, and you never heard from me——”
“I felt then that all was over between us; felt it in a despairing, hopeless kind of way. But I cherished no resentment against you—none.”
“But surely your uncle and aunt had some explanation to offer?”