Kept in the Dark | Page 7

of your going;--only when I did hear of it it
became necessary that I should tell you at once."
"But you have told me nothing. I hate mysteries, and secrets, and
scenes. There is nothing goes against the grain so much with me as
tragedy airs. If you have done anything amiss that it is necessary that I
should know let me know it at once." As he said this there came across
his brow a look of anger and of hot ill-humour, such as she had never
seen there before. The effect was to induce her to respect him rather
than to be afraid of him. It was well that a man should have the power
and the courage to show his anger.
But it encouraged her to proceed with her task. She certainly was not
afraid of him personally, though she did dread what the world might
say of her, and especially what might be said by his friends. "I do not
know that I have done anything amiss of which I need tell you," she
said with quiet dignity. "It is rather that which I intend to do. I fear, Sir
Francis, that you and I have made a mistake in this."
"What mistake?" he shouted. "While you beat about the bush I shall
never understand you."

"In our proposed marriage."
"What?"
"I fear that I should not make you happy."
"What on earth do you mean?" Then he paused a moment before he
continued, which he did as though he had discovered suddenly the
whole secret. "You have got another lover."
There was something in the idea so shocking to Cecilia, so
revolting,--so vulgar in the mode of expression, that the feeling at once
gave her the strength necessary to go on with her task. She would not
condescend to answer the accusation, but at once told her story in plain
language. "I think, Sir Francis Geraldine, that you do not feel for me
the regard that would make me happy as your wife. Do not interrupt me
just at present," she said, stopping him, as some exclamation was
escaping from his lips. "Hear me to the end, and, if you have ought to
say, I will then hear you. Of my own regard for you I will say nothing.
But I think that I have been mistaken as to your nature. In fact, I feel
sure that we are neither of us that which the other supposed. It is
lamentable that we should have fallen into such an error, but it is well
that even yet we can escape from it before it is too late. As my mind is
altogether made up, I can only ask your pardon for what I have done to
you, expressing myself sure at the same time that I am now best
consulting your future happiness."
During this last speech of Cecilia's, Sir Francis had sat down, while she
still stood in her old place. He had seated himself on the sofa, assuming
as it were a look of profound ease, and arranging the nails of one hand
with the fingers of the other, as though he were completely indifferent
to the words spoken to him. "Have you done yet?" he said as soon as
she was silent.
"Yes, I have done."
"And you are sure that if I begin you will not interrupt me till I have
done?"

"I think not,--if there be ought that you have to say."
"Well, considering that ten minutes since I was engaged to make you
Lady Geraldine, and that I am now supposed to be absolved from any
such necessity, I presume you will think it expedient that I should say
something. I suppose that I have not been told the whole truth." Then
he stopped, as though in spite of his injunction as to her silence he
expected an answer from her. But she made none, though there came a
cloud of anger upon her face. "I suppose, I say, that there is something
of which it is not considered necessary that I should be informed. There
must be something of the kind, or you would hardly abandon prospects
which a few days since appeared to you to be so desirable."
"I have not thought it necessary to speak of your temper," she said.
"Nor of your own."
"Nor of my own," she added.
"But there is, I take it, something beyond that. I do not think that my
temper, bad as it may be,--nor your own,--would have sufficed to
estrange you. There must be something more palpable than temper to
have occasioned it. And though you have not thought fit to tell me, you
must feel that my position justifies me in asking. Have you another
lover?"
"No," she exclaimed, burning with