Edward desired to see his nephew in the library.
The girl waited, but Roger did not come back to the breakfast table.
The eyes of the cousins met sorrowfully in the chapel, and in the
afternoon, with Lady Doughty's permission, they saw each other in the
drawing-room to take farewell. For Sir Edward's fiat had gone forth.
Marriage between first cousins was forbidden by the Church, and there
were other reasons why he was resolute that this engagement should be
broken off before it grew more serious. So it was arranged that on the
very next morning the young man should leave the house for ever. Thus
the great hope of Roger's life was suddenly extinguished, and there
was nothing left for him but to sail with his regiment for India, and
endeavour, if he could, to forget the past. Some days after that, at
his cousin's request, he wrote out for her a narrative of his sorrows
at this time, in which he said:--

"What I felt when I left my uncle it is difficult for me to explain. I
was like thunderstruck. I came back to my room, and tried to pack up
my things, but was obliged to give up the attempt, as my mind was
quite absent. I sank on a chair, and remained there, my head buried
between my two knees for more than half an hour. What was the nature
of my thoughts, my dearest K., you may easily imagine. To think that I
was obliged to leave you the next day, not to see you again--not,
perhaps, for years, if ever I came back from India. The idea was
breaking my heart. It passed on, giving me no relief, until about two
o'clock, when my aunt told me that you wished to see me. That news
gave me more pleasure than I could express; so much so that I never
could have expected it. The evening that I saw you, my dear K., about
five o'clock, you cannot conceive what pleasure it gave me. I saw you
felt my going away, so I determined to tell you everything I felt
towards you. What I told you it is not necessary to repeat, as I
suppose you remember it. When I came away from the drawing-room my
mind was so much oppressed that it was impossible to think of going to
bed. I stopped up until two o'clock in the morning. I do not think it
necessary, my dearest K., to tire you with all the details of what I
have felt for you during these two days; suffice it to say, that I
never felt more acute pain, especially during the night when I could
not sleep. I promise to my own dearest Kate, on my word and honour,
that I will be back in England, if she is no