"'I did, my dear,' he said, 'but, of course, that died with Summer. One
does not speak of what is dead.'

"'Do you not mean to marry me?' I asked.

"'No, certainly not; and you know that I never did. It was a Summer's
amusement.'

"'And what is it to me?' I asked.

"'Oh, you must make the best of it. Of course, I will not see you want,
but you must not annoy me. And that old grandmother of yours, she must
not be let loose upon me. You must do the best you can. I will give you
a hundred pounds if you will promise not to come near me again.'

"I spoke no word to him; I did not reproach him; I did not utter his
name; I did not say good-bye to him; I walked away. I leave his
punishment to Heaven. Then I crushed the anguish within me and tried to
look my life in the face. I would have killed myself rather than have
gone home. My grandmother had forced me to be saving, and in the
postoffice bank I had nearly thirty pounds. I had a watch and chain
worth ten. I sold them, and I sold with them a small diamond ring that
had been my mother's, and some other jewelry; altogether I realized
fifty pounds. I went to the outskirts of London and took two small
rooms.

"I remember that I made no effort to hide my disgrace; I did not pretend
to be married or to be a widow, and the mistress of the house was not
unkind to me. She liked me all the better for telling the truth. I say
no word to you of my mental anguish--no words can describe it, but I