“Has Duncan given you an answer?”
“Yes, Rosalie.”
“And it?”
“He has trusted to his mother,” she said, almost proudly.
“Rather than me,” quickly interrupted Rosalie.
“Rather than do that which is wrong; which might prove the misery of you both hereafter, my child.”
“Where is he? Why does he not come himself to tell me this? If the thing is really true, his lips should have spoken it and not another’s.”
“He could not do it. I believe his heart is broken. Oh, Rosalie, do not look so upon me. Is it not enough that I bitterly regret, that I shall always deplore having not foreseen the result of your companionship. Say only that you do believe I have striven to do the best for you always, so far as I knew how.”
“Heaven knows that I believe it, mother. When will Duncan come home again?”
“Monday, not before.”