Kept in the Dark | Page 5

course, but she
had never consulted her mother on the subject. And now, at the end of
the week, she had almost resolved to break with the man without
having intimated to any one that such was her intention. And what
excuse had she? There was excuse enough to her own mind, to her own
heart. But what excuse could she give to him or to the world? He was
confident enough,--so confident as to vex her by his confidence.
Though he had come to treat her with indifference, like a plaything, she
was quite sure that he did not dream of having his marriage broken off.
He was secured,--she was sure that this was his feeling,--by her love,
by her ambition, by his position in the world. He could make her Lady
Geraldine! Was it to be supposed that she should not wish to be Lady
Geraldine? He could take what liberties he pleased without any danger
of losing her! It was her conviction that such was the condition of his
mind that operated the strongest in bringing her to her resolution.
But she must tell some one. She must have a confidante. "Maude," she
said one day, "I have made up my mind not to marry your uncle."
"Cecilia!"
"I have. No one as yet has been told, but I have resolved. Should I see
him to-morrow, or next day, or the next, I shall tell him."
"You are not in earnest?"
"Is it likely that I should jest on such a subject;--or that if I had a mind
to do so I should tell you? You must keep my secret. You must not tell
your uncle. It must come to him from myself. At the present moment
he does not in the least know me,--but he will."
"And why? Why is there to be this break;--why to be these broken
promises?"
"I put it to yourself whether you do not know the why. How often have
you made excuses for him? Why have the excuses been necessary? I

am prepared to bear all the blame. I must bear it. But I am not prepared
to make myself miserable for ever because I have made a mistake as to
a man's character. Of course I shall suffer,--because I love him. He will
not suffer much,--because he does not love me."
"Oh, yes!"
"You know that he does not," said Cecilia, shaking her head. "You
know it. You know it. At any rate I know it. And as the thing has to be
done, it shall be done quickly." There was much more said between the
two girls on the subject, but Maude when she left her friend was sure
that her friend was in earnest.
CHAPTER II.
SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE.
On that same afternoon, at about tea time, Sir Francis came up to the
house. He had said that he would be there if he could get there,--and he
got there. He was shown into the drawing-room, where was sitting Mrs.
Holt with her daughter, and began to tell them that he was to leave the
Deanery on the following morning and not be back till a day or two
before his marriage. "Where are you going?" Cecilia asked, meaning
nothing, only gaining time till she should have determined how she
should carry out her purpose.
"Well;--if you must know, I am going to Goodwood. I had not thought
of it. But some friends have reminded me that as these are to be the last
days of my liberty I may as well enjoy them."
"Your friends are very complaisant to me," said Cecilia in a tone of
voice which seemed to imply that she took it all in earnest.
"One's friends never do care a straw for the young lady on such an
occasion," said Sir Francis. "They regard her as the conquering enemy,
and him as the conquered victim."
"And you desire a little relaxation from your fetters."

"Well; just a last flutter." All this had been said with such a mixture of
indifferent badinage on his part, and of serious anger on hers, that Mrs.
Holt, who saw it all and understood it, sat very uneasy in her chair. "To
tell the truth," continued he, "all the instructions have been given to the
lawyers, and I really do think that I had better be away during the
making of the dresses and the baking of the cake. It has come to pass
by this accident of my living at the Deanery that we have already
become almost tired of each other's company."
"You might speak for yourself, Sir Francis Geraldine."
"So I do. For to tell the truth, a man does get tired of this kind of thing
quicker than a woman, and a man of forty