ther had arranged with him that they were to make the best of it. But she spoke her own despair in the way she murmured: "O Godfrey, Godfrey, is it true?"
"I've been the most unutterable donkey—you can say what you like to me. You can't say anything worse than I've said to myself."
"My brother, my brother!" his words made her moan. He hushed her with a movement, and she asked, "What has father said?"
Godfrey looked over her head. "He'll give her six hundred a year."
"Ah, the angel!"
"On condition she never comes near me. She has solemnly promised; and she'll probably leave me alone, to get the money. If she doesn't—in diplomacy—I'm lost." The young man had been turning his eyes vaguely about, this way and that, to avoid meeting hers; but after another instant he gave up the effort, and she had the miserable confession of his glance. "I've been living in hell," he said.
"My brother, my brother!" she repeated.
"I'm not an idiot; yet for her I've behaved like one. Don't ask me—you mustn't know. It was all done in a day, and since then, fancy my condition—fancy my work!"
"Thank God you passed!" cried Adela.
"I would have shot myself if I hadn't. I had an awful day yesterday with father; it was late at night before it was over. I leave England next week. He brought me down here for it to look well—so that the children sha'n't know."
"He's wonderful!" she murmured.
"He's wonderful!" said Godfrey.
"Did she tell him?" the girl asked.