, I've long discovered that you only weep because you're the
only person in the world to whom it's thoroughly becoming.'

'Don't be horrid and unsympathetic. I think Alec MacKenzie's a perfect
dear. I wanted to kiss him, only I was afraid it would frighten him to
death.'

'I'm glad you didn't. He would have thought you a forward hussy.'

'I wish I could have married him, too,' cried Julia, 'I'm sure he'd make
a nice husband.'

XXI

The days went by, spent by Alec in making necessary preparations for his
journey, spent by Lucy in sickening anxiety. The last two months had
been passed by her in a conflict of emotions. Love had planted itself in
her heart like a great forest tree, and none of the storms that had
assailed it seemed to have power to shake its stubborn roots. Season,
common decency, shame, had lost their power. She had prayed God that a
merciful death might free her from the dreadful uncertainty. She was
spiritless and cowed. She despised herself for her weakness. And
sometimes she rebelled against the fate that crushed her with such
misfortunes; she had tried to do her duty always, acting humbly
according to her lights, and yet everything she was concerned in
crumbled away to powder at her touch. She, too, began to think that she
was not meant for happiness. She knew that she ought to hate Alec, but
she could not. She knew that his action should fill her with nameless
horror, but against her will she could not believe that he was false and
wicked. One thing she was determined on, and that was to keep her word
to Robert Boulger; but he himself gave her back her freedom.

He came to her one day, and after a little casual conversation broke
suddenly into the middle of things.

'Lucy, I want to ask you to release me from my engagement to you,' he
said.

Her heart gave a great leap against her breast, and she began to
tremble. He went on.

'I'm ashamed to have to say it; I find that I don't love you enough to
marry you.'

She looked at him silently, and her eyes filled with tears. The
brutality with which he spoke was so unnatural that it betrayed the
mercifulness of his intention.

'If you think that, there is nothing more to be said,' she answered.

He gave her a look of such bitterness that she felt it impossible to
continue a pretence which deceived neither of them.

'I'm unworthy of your love,' she cried. 'I've made you desperately
wretched.'

'It doesn't matter about me,' he said.