’And you don’t wish to renew acquaintance with her,—­I’m sure you don’t.’

He looked away, and said nothing.

‘My dear, do you know her character?’

‘What about her?’

The tone was startling, but Mrs. Damerel kept firm, though agitated.

’She has led the most disgraceful life.  I heard about her half a year after she ran away, but of course I wouldn’t tell you such painful things.’

Horace reddened with anger.

‘And who is to blame for it?’ he cried passionately.  ’Who drove her to it?’

‘Oh, don’t, don’t come back to that again, Horace!’ pleaded the other.  ’How can any one drive a girl into a life of scandalous immorality?  It was in herself, dear.  She took to it naturally, as so many women do.  Remember that letter she wrote from Brussels, which I sent you a copy of—­’

‘It was a forgery!’ thundered Horace.  ’I have asked her.  She says she never wrote any such letter.’

‘Then she lies, as such creatures always do.’

Bitterness of apprehension overcame Mrs. Damerel’s prudence.  With flashing eyes, she faced the young man and dared his wrath.  As they stood thus, the two were astonishingly like each other, from forehead to chin.

’It’s no use, I’m not going to quarrel with you, aunt.  Think what you like of Miss.  French, I know the truth about her.’

He slipped from the table, and moved away.

’I will say no more, Horace.  You are independent, and must have your own acquaintances.  But after you are married—­’

The other voice interrupted.

’I had better tell you at once.  I shall not marry Miss.  Chittle.  I am going to write this afternoon to break it off.’

Mrs. Damerel went pale, and stood motionless.

‘Horace, you can’t be so wicked as that!’

‘It’s better,’ he pursued recklessly, ’to break it off now, than to marry her and make her miserable.  I don’t love her, and I have never really thought I did.  I was going to marry her only for her money.  Why she wants to marry me, I don’t know.  There’s something wrong; she doesn’t really care for me.’

‘She does!  I assure you she does!’

‘Then I can’t help it.’

Mrs. Damerel went close to him, and touched his arm.

’My dear,’—­her voice was so low that it seemed terror-stricken, —­’you don’t mean to marry—­any one else?’

He drew apart, she followed him.

’Oh, that would be terrible!  What can I say to open your eyes and show you what you are doing?  Horace, have you no sense of honour?  Can you find it in your heart to cast off a girl who loves you, and thinks that in so short a time she will be your wife?’

‘This again is your fault,’ he replied, with a violence which proved the conflict of emotions in him.  ’But for you, I should never have proposed to Winifred—­never dreamt of such a thing.  What do I want with her money?  I have enough of my own, and I shall make more in business.  Why have you driven me into this?  Did you expect to get some profit out of it?’