While she spoke, Constance on her side had been going through a series of observations, running comments upon this address, which did not move her very much. “If he had been king of all the world--ah, that would have made a difference,” she said to herself; and it was all she could do to refrain from bursting forth in derisive laughter at the suggestion that she herself had perhaps been shy, or had not known her own mind. To think that any woman could be such a simpleton, so easily deceived! The question was, whether to be gentle with the delusion, and spare Mrs Gaunt’s feelings; or whether to strike her down at once with indignation and sharp scorn. There passed through the mind of Constance a rapid calculation that in so small a community it was better not to make an enemy, and also perhaps some softening reflections from the remorse which really had touched her last night. So that when Mrs Gaunt ended by that fervent prayer, her knees trembling with the half intention of falling upon them, her voice faltering, her tears flowing, Constance allowed herself to be touched with responsive emotion. She put out both her hands and cried, “Oh, don’t speak like that to me; oh, don’t look at me so! Dear, dear Mrs Gaunt, teach me what to do to make up for it! for I never thought it would come to this. I never imagined that he, who deserves so much better, would trouble himself about me. Oh, what a wretched creature I am to bring trouble everywhere! for I am not free. Don’t you know I am--engaged to some one else? Oh, I thought everybody knew of it! I am not free.” “Not free!” said Mrs Gaunt, with a cry of dismay. “Oh, didn’t you know of it?” said Constance. “I thought everybody knew. It has been settled for a long time--since I was quite a child.” “My dear,” said Mrs Gaunt, solemnly, “if your heart is not in it, you ought not to go on with it. I did hear something of--a gentleman, whom your mamma wished you to marry; who was very rich, and all that.” Constance nodded her head slowly, in a somewhat melancholy assent. “But I was told that you did not wish it yourself--that you had broken it off--that you had come here to avoid---- Oh, my dear girl, don’t take up a false sense of duty, or--or honour--or self-sacrifice! Constance, you may have a right to sacrifice yourself, but not another--not another, dear. And all his happiness is wrapped up in you. And if it is a thing your heart does not go with!” cried the poor lady, losing herself in the complication of phrases. Constance only shook her head. “Dear Mrs Gaunt! I _must_ think of honour and duty. What would become of us all if we put an engagement aside, because--because----? And it would be cruel to the other; he is not strong. I could not, oh, I could not break off--oh no, not for worlds--it would kill him. But will you try and persuade Captain Gaunt not to think hardly of me? I thought I might enjoy his friendship without any harm. If I have done wrong, oh forgive me!” Constance cried.