“I know that, Constance; but you must put this idea of going to London out of your head. I cannot consent to it—I shall never consent to it.”
“Why not, mother?”
“Do not ask me. I cannot say—I scarcely know myself. I dare not think of such a thing; it is too dreadful. You must not, you cannot go. Do not speak of it again.”
The other's task was all the harder because she knew the reason of her mother's reluctance, and understood her feeling so well—the terrible grief which only a mother can feel at the thought of an eternal separation from her child. She rose to her feet, but instead of going from the room remained standing, hesitating, twisting and untwisting her fingers together, and at length she moved to a chair close to her mother and sat down again.
“I must tell you something else, mother,” she said. “I do not quite belong to myself now, but to another; and if the man I have promised to marry were to come for me to-morrow, or to send for me to go to him, I could no longer remain with you. As it happens, we are not going to be married soon—not for a year at least, perhaps not for two. Before that time comes I wish to know what it is to live by my own work.... He is a worker, working with his mind in London: I think it would be a good preparation for my future, that it would make me a better companion for him, if I were also to work now and be independent.... If you can only give me a little money—enough to pay my expenses for a short time—a few weeks in London, until I begin to make enough to keep myself!”
“And who is this person you speak of, Constance, of whose existence I now hear for the first time?”
“I have been for some months in correspondence with him, but our engagement is only recent, and that is why you have not heard of it before. He is a clerk in the Foreign Office, and from that you will know that he is a gentleman. He also employs his leisure time in literary work. I can show you his photograph if you would like to see it, mother.”
“And have you, Constance, engaged yourself to a person you have not even seen?”
“No, mother, I have of course seen him.”
“Where?”