'Miss—Farrar' (there was a sufficiently long pause between the words to bring the colour rushing to her cheeks) 'seems determined to take your advice, Miss Haddon. She means to recognise that marriage, cost what it may.'
There was something peculiarly offensive, and I saw that he meant it to be so, in imputing the 'advice,' as he termed it, to me. But this was not a time for me to retort, so I merely replied: 'You are angry, Mr Trafford.'
'Angry! Is it to be expected that I could stand quietly by and make no protest, while such a sacrifice was being made? I suppose you have persuaded Lilian to believe that the consequences to her are nothing to me; you have tried to make her believe that I do not love her.'
'I believe that you do love her, Mr Trafford,' I replied. It was not his love, but its quality, which I doubted. Looking steadily at him, I added: 'And now is the time to prove the worth of your love.'
'I can best do that by protecting her interests, Miss Haddon.' Turning pleadingly towards Lilian again, he added: 'If you would only promise me to delay making it known for a few days—for a day—while we talk it over, and—and take further advice. For Heaven's sake, do not do such a rash thing on the impulse of the moment, Lilian! Say you will think it over?'
'It needs no thinking,' she murmured.
'And my wishes are nothing to you?'
'I hoped—I believed—that you would help me to do what I am doing, Arthur,' she replied in a low broken voice.
'Is it possible that you can think that I should help you to sacrifice your mother's good name, and disobey your father's wishes, to gratify a sentimental and very doubtful feeling, such as this? It will not even be of any real benefit to the girl herself, who is already much better off than she had any right to expect, and happy enough as she is. I say nothing of the entire disregard of my wishes—the cruel injustice to me—after being so long led on to believe in your love for me.'
'Spare me!'