"Oh, Will, how can that be when I am engaged to marry another man?"
"As to your engagement I should care nothing. Does he love you as I love you? If he loves you, why is he not here? If he loves you, why does he let his mother ill-use you, and treat you with scorn? If he loves you as I love you, how could he write to you as he does write? Would I write to you such a letter as that? Would I let you be here without coming to you,--to be looked after by any one else? If you had said that you would be my wife, would I leave you in solitude and sorrow, and then send you seventy-five pounds to console you? If you think he loves you, Clara--"
"He thought he was doing right when he sent me the money."
"But he shouldn't have thought it right. Never mind. I don't want to accuse him; but this I know,--and you know; he does not love you as I love you."
"Say that you will wait till you have seen him. Say that I may have a hope,--a chance; that if he is cold, and hard, and,--and,--and, just what we know he is, then I may have a chance."
"How can I say that when I am engaged to him? Cannot you understand that I am wrong to let you speak of him as you do?"
"How else am I to speak of him? Tell me this. Do you love him?"
"I don't believe it. Nothing on earth shall make me believe it. It is impossible;--impossible!"
"No; I do not mean to insult you, but I mean to tell you the truth. I do not think you love that man as you ought to love the man whom you are going to marry. I should tell you just the same thing if I were really your brother. Of course it isn't that I suppose you love any one else,--me for instance. I'm not such a fool as that. But I don't think you love him; and I'm quite sure he doesn't love you. That's just what I believe; and if I do believe it, how am I to help telling you?"
"How am I to help it? Well;--never mind. I won't let you sit there any longer. At any rate you'll be able to understand now that I shall never come to this place any more." Clara, as she got up to obey him, felt that she also ought never to see it again;--unless, indeed,--unless--
They passed that evening together without any reference to the scene on the rock, or any allusion to their own peculiar troubles. Clara, though she would not admit to Mrs. Askerton that she was going away from the place for ever, was not the less aware that such might very probably be the case. She had no longer any rights of ownership at Belton Castle, and all that had taken place between her and her cousin tended to make her feel that under no circumstances could she again reside there. Nor was it probable that she would be able to make to Mrs. Askerton the visit of which they had been talking. If Lady Aylmer were wise,--so Clara thought,--there would be no mention of Mrs. Askerton at Aylmer Park; and, if so, of course she would not outrage her future husband by proposing to go to a house of which she knew that he disapproved. If Lady Aylmer were not wise;--if she should take upon herself the task of rebuking Clara for her friendship,--then, in such circumstances as those, Clara believed that the visit to Mrs. Askerton might be possible.