She shook her head.
“No, no; that’s not it; but this is—I strongly suspect that you all know more about Charles than I do.”
She fixed her eyes with an earnest penetration on him as she spoke.
“He is expected home soon, Jane.”
“He is not ill, William; and you have all permitted me to deceive myself into a belief that he is; because you felt that I would rather ten thousand times that he were dead than false—than false.”
“He could not, he dare not be false to you, my dear, after having been solemnly betrothed to you, I may say with the consent of your father and his.”
“Dare not—ha—there is meaning in that, William; your complexion is heightened, too; and so I have found out your secret, my brother. Sunk as is my heart, you see I have greater penetration than you dream of. So he is not sick, but false; and his love for me is gone like a dream. Well, well; but yet I have laid down my own plan of resignation. You would not guess what it is? Come, guess; I will hear nothing further till you guess.”
He thought it was better to humor her, and replied in accordance with the hope of I his father.
“Religion, my dear Jane, and reliance on God.”
“That was my first plan; that was my plan in case the malady I suspected had taken him from me—but what is my plan for his falsehood?”