one, "I hope you will be happy, and"--slowly--"he too, though
that is a foregone conclusion." He pales a little here, and stops as
though half choking. "Yes, he has my best wishes,--for your sake," he
goes on, unsteadily. "Tell him so from me, though we have not been good
friends of late."
"I will surely tell him."
"Good-bye!" he says, taking her hand. Something in his expression makes
her exclaim, anxiously:
"For the present?"
"No; forever. Herst and England have grown hateful to me. I leave them
as soon as possible. Good-bye, my beloved!" he whispers, in deep
agitation. "I only ask you not to quite forget me, though I hope--_I
hope_--I shall never look upon your sweet face again."
So he goes, leaving his heart behind him, carrying with him evermore,
by land and sea, this only,--the vision of her he loves as last he sees
her, weeping sad and bitter tears for him.
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later, as Molly and Cecil are stepping into the
carriage meant to convey them to the station, one of the servants,
running up hurriedly, hands Miss Massereene a letter.
"Another?" says Cecil, jestingly, as the carriage starts. "Sealed
envelopes, like private bomb-shells, seem to be the order of the day. I
do hope this one does not emanate from your grandfather, desiring you
to refund everything."
"It is from Tedcastle," says Molly, surprised. Then she opens it, and
reads as follows:
"Taking into consideration the enormous change that has occurred in
your fortunes since this morning, I feel it only just to you and
myself to write and absolve you from all ties by which you may fancy
yourself still connected with me. You will remember that in our last
conversation together in London you yourself voluntarily decided on
severing our engagement. Let your decision now stand. Begin your new
life without hampering regrets, without remorseful thoughts of me.
To you I hope this money may bring happiness; to me, through you, it
has brought lasting pain; and when, a few minutes ago, I said I
congratulated you from my heart, I spoke falsely. I say this only to
justify my last act in your eyes. I will not tell you what it costs
me to write you this; you know me well enough to understand. I shall
exchange with a friend of mine, and sail for India in a week or two,
or at least as soon as I can; but wherever I am, or whatever furt
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