“It was very kind of you,” she said at last, after a long pause.

Brandon turned.  Her words were ambiguous, and he wished to be understood.  “You observe, no doubt, Miss Melcombe,” he said, “that I am speaking of Joseph Swan?”

“Joseph Swan!” Laura repeated, “then he is going away?”

“Yes; but when I had secured this situation for him, he said he felt that he must tell me what had occurred.  He told me of an attachment that he had formed, and whatever I may think as to the prudence displayed in the affair, you know best whether he was at all to blame.  He had received certain promises, so he assured me, and for a long time he had buoyed himself up with hope, but after that, feeling himself very much injured, and knowing that he had been deceived, he had determined to go away.”

Laura had never expected to have her conduct brought home to her, and she had actually been almost unaware that she was to blame.

“It was Amelia’s doing,” she murmured.

Brandon was anxious to speak guardedly, and would not mention Joseph’s name again lest Mrs. Melcombe should enter suddenly and hear it, so he answered, “Yes; and the young man told me he knew you were very much afraid of your sister-in-law.  It appears, however, that you had written to him.”

“I did, two or three times,” said Laura.

“So in case you should in after years feel anxious as to what had become of those letters, or should feel some compunction for groundless hopes excited and for causeless caprice, I undertook to tell you as a message from this young man, that, considering you to be completely under the dominion of your sister-in-law, he does not at all blame you, he does not admit that you are in fault; in one sense, now that he can look back on his attachment as over, he declares that he is the better for it, because it induced him to work hard at improving himself.  He is to go out to Santo Domingo, where, in a new climate, and hearing a new language, he can begin life afresh; but he wishes you to be assured that he shall never trouble or annoy you, and he returns you your letters.  I promised to say all this to you as a message from this young man—­a young man who, whatever the world may call him, deserves, I think, by you (and me) to be from henceforth always regarded as a gentleman.  Will you allow me to give you this packet?”

He had risen as he spoke, and while approaching her produced a small packet carefully done up; but Laura did not stir.  She had dropped her hands on her knees, and he, stooping, laid it upon them, when meeting her eyes for a moment, he observed with amazement and discomfiture that she was silent not from shame and compunction for what had seemed very unfeminine and heartless conduct, but from a rapture that seemed too deep for words.

“Miss Melcombe!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” she answered, in a low voice.  “It is an island that he is going to then.  I always thought I should not mind marrying him if he would go to a desert island.  And so he loved me, really and truly?”