"Perhaps he was in a hurry," Anthea suggested.
"Oh dear me, no my dear! I don't believe Mr. Bellew was ever in a hurry in all his life."
"No," said Anthea, giving her pen a vicious bite, "I don't believe he ever was; he is always so--hatefully placid, and deliberate!" and here, she bit her pen again.
"Eh, my dear?" exclaimed Miss Priscilla, pausing with her needle in mid-air, "did you say--hatefully?"
"Oh Aunt Priscilla!--surely you never--believed in the--fortune? Surely you guessed it was--_his_ money that paid back the mortgage,--didn't you, Aunt,--didn't you?"
"Well, my dear--. But then--he did it so very--tactfully, and--and--I had hoped, my dear that--"
"That I should--marry him, and settle the obligation that way, perhaps?"
"I'm going to marry Mr. Cassilis--whenever he pleases!"
"Anthea!" The word was a cry, and her needle-work slipped from Miss Priscilla's nerveless fingers.
"He asked me to write and tell him if ever I changed my mind--"
"Oh--my dear! my dear!" cried Miss Priscilla reaching out imploring hands, "you never mean it,--you are all distraught to-day--tired, and worn out with worry, and loss of sleep,--wait!"
"Wait!" repeated Anthea bitterly, "for what?"
"To--marry--him! O Anthea! you never mean it? Think,--think what you are doing."
"I thought of it all last night, Aunt Priscilla, and all this morning, and--I have made up my mind."
"To tell Mr. Cassilis that you will--marry him?"
But now Miss Priscilla rose, and, next moment, was kneeling beside Anthea's chair.
"Oh my dear!" she pleaded, "you that I love like my own flesh and blood,--don't! Oh Anthea! don't do what can never be undone. Don't give your youth and beauty to one who can never--never make you happy,--Oh Anthea--!"
"Dear Aunt Priscilla, I would rather marry one I don't love than have to live beholden all my days to a man that I--hate!" Now, as she spoke, though her embrace was as ready, and her hands as gentle as ever, yet Miss Priscilla saw that her proud face was set, and stern. So, she presently rose, sighing, and taking her little crutch stick, tapped dolefully away, and left Anthea to write her letter.
And now, hesitating no more, Anthea took up her pen, and wrote,--surely a very short missive for a love-letter. And, when she had folded, and sealed it, she tossed it aside, and laying her arms upon the table, hid her face, with a long, shuddering sigh.