Next morning early, Dolly left Combe Neville on her way to London.

When she reached the station, Walter was on the platform with a

bunch of white roses. He handed them to her deferentially as she

took her seat in the third-class carriage; and so sobered was Dolly

by this great misfortune that she forgot even to feel a passing

pang of shame that Walter should see her travel in that humble

fashion. "Remember," he whispered in her ear, as the train steamed

out, "we are still engaged; I hold you to your promise."

And Dolly, blushing maidenly shame and distress, shook her head

decisively. "Not now," she answered. "I must wait till I know the

truth. It has always been kept from me. And now I WILL know it."

She had not slept that night. All the way up to London, she kept

turning her doubt over. The more she thought of it, the deeper it

galled her. Her wrath waxed bitter against Herminia for this evil

turn she had wrought. The smouldering anger of years blazed forth

at last. Had she blighted her daughter's life, and spoiled so fair

a future by obstinate adherence to those preposterous ideas of

hers?

Never in her life had Dolly loved her mother. At best, she had

felt towards her that contemptuous toleration which inferior minds

often extend to higher ones. And now--why, she hated her.

In London, as it happened, that very morning, Herminia, walking

across Regent's Park, had fallen in with Harvey Kynaston, and their

talk had turned upon this self-same problem.

"What will you do when she asks you about it, as she must, sooner

or later?" the man inquired.

And Herminia, smiling that serene sweet smile of hers, made answer

at once without a second's hesitation, "I shall confess the whole

truth to her."

"But it might be so bad for her," Harvey Kynaston went on. And

then he proceeded to bring up in detail casuistic objections on

the score of a young girl's modesty; all of which fell flat on

Herminia's more honest and consistent temperament.

"I believe in the truth," she said simply; "and I'm never afraid of

it. I don't think a lie, or even a suppression, can ever be good

in the end for any one. The Truth shall make you Free. That one

principle in life can guide one through everything."

In the evening, when Dolly came home, her mother ran out proudly

and affectionately to kiss her. But Dolly drew back her face with

a gesture of displeasure, nay, almost of shrinking. "Not now,

mother!" she cried. "I have something to ask you about. Till I

know the truth, I can never kiss you."




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