I
little thought you would have encouraged her in concealment, and--I
must say--deceit, and thus made me fail in the trust her father reposed
in me.'
'I would never have done it,' Constance sobbed, 'but for what she said
about you. Lady Merrifield!'
'Well, and even if I am such a hard, severe person, does that make it
honourable or right to help the child I trusted to you to carry on this
underhand correspondence?'
Constance hung her head. Her sister had said the same to her, but she
still felt herself the most injured party, and thought it very hard
that she should be so severely blamed for what the girls at her school
treated so lightly. She said, 'I am very sorry. Lady Merrifield,' but
it was not exactly the tone of repentance, and it ended with: 'If it
had not been for her, I should never have done it.'
'I suppose not, for there would have been no temptation. I was in
hopes that you would have shown some kindlier and more generous feeling
towards the younger girl, who could not have gone so far wrong without
your assistance, and who feels your treatment of her very bitterly.
But to find you incapable of understanding what you have done, makes me
all the more glad that the friendship--if friendship it can be called--
is broken off between you. Good-bye. I think when you are older and
wiser, you will be very sorry to recollect the doings of the last few
months.'
Lady Merrifield walked away, and found on her return that Dolores had
succeeded in writing to her father, and was so utterly tired out by the
feelings it had cost her that she was only fit to lie on the sofa and
sleep.
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