Читать книгу The Carcellini Emerald, With Other Tales онлайн

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“What!” shouted Tom, loosening his hold of her, his eyes darting angry lightning. “That ——! Why, Eunice, it is impossible! You cannot have met him since I broke with him last autumn a year ago.”

“Oh, Tom! How dreadful you look! Of course I knew you were no longer friends. It was just after poor papa’s troubles began when Ashton wrote to me that you had separated, and that pride would not allow him to correspond with me after what had taken place between you. Then once, during the Christmas holidays, I met him in the street, and we took a walk together, and he begged me to be true to him and all would come out right. But still we did not write, until—”

“Don’t tell me he dared approach you after February!” exclaimed Tom, white to the lips with anger.

“Yes. He said there had been such a bad quarrel between you he feared it could not be made up; but he asked me to meet him in town—in a picture-gallery—and I did. Don’t be angry, Tom. He wanted to let me off from our engagement; indeed he did; but I saw he was in great trouble, and so told him I would never give him up so long as my love was worth anything to him; that he needn’t write—I should understand. After this he began coming down to town to walk with me, which took place several times—I couldn’t refuse him that comfort, Tom.”