Insensibly his hand unclenched and clasped her's; she continued sobbing between each scarcely-articulate word, "When, by every artifice man could employ, he led me to error; and, ever since, this most bitter repentance. 'Twas done under the promise of making me his wife, to show _you_ that _he_ appreciated my worth. And when he said you not only had repulsed my love, but scorned it----"
"He lied, Mary, he lied!" articulated the sorrowing man, looking up; "from _me_ he never heard of our love; he must have divined it."
"God help me!" she uttered, kissing his clasping hand, "for I have suffered much; and it was my refusal (for years now) to continue in my error, which has made him persecute me so of late. I told him last time we met, that _I loved you still, and ever should_." These last words were scarcely breathed.
"Heaven help you, my poor girl!" cried Miles, looking at her as he placed a hand gently on her head; "for what can that love bring you?--Sorrow and disheartenment in every effort for existence; a log to hamper every step of your pathway to independence! Rise up, Mary," and he drew her on his heart; "come what may, my girl, these arms will shelter you still from the cold, heartless world. I am richer now, Mary, and to-morrow you and that poor old woman shall leave this place; and once away, oh, then!----" He spoke the last words with a stern resolution.
"What, Miles?" and she clasped his clenched hand in her's, and gazed terrified in his flashing eyes.
"I'll return to my home abroad," he uttered, dropping them to conceal _their_ speech, lest she should read aright.
"I'm sure," said Sylvia Formby, rocking herself backwards and forwards in her chair, about an hour after Minnie's return, "I don't know what _can_ be done with this girl; she certainly is a dreadful cause of anxiety to all, and especially to poor me!" She was one of those who delighted in being miserable. One would really have imagined, from her manner and conversation about her, that Minnie was one of the very worst girls in existence--an unruly, impossible-to-govern creature. Aunt Sylvia was in her own room; and opposite to her, shaking her head in sorrowing sympathy, perched on the edge of a chair, sat Mrs. Gillett.