"Because of his relationship to you, and his engagement to you?" said Cynthia. "Oh, I see that I must tell you more! Miss Vane, I was ungrateful enough to run away from the school at which he placed me, as soon as my story became accidently known to my schoolfellows. I was then befriended by an old musician, who taught me how to sing and got me an engagement on the stage. When he died, I was reduced to great poverty. I heard of Mr. Lepel at the theatre. He wrote plays, and had become acquainted with my face and my stage-name; but he did not know that I was the girl whom he had sent to school; and I did not know that he was the gentleman whom I had seen with you at Beechfield. His face sometimes seemed vaguely familiar to me; but I could not imagine why." "And he did not remember you?" "Not in the least. I applied to him for help to get work," said Cynthia, flushing hotly at the remembrance; "and he found out that I had a voice and helped me. I went to him because I heard of his kindness to others, and I had read a story that he had written, which made me think that he would be kind. And he was kind--so kind that, without design, without any attempt to win my heart, I fell in love with him, Miss Vane, not knowing that he was your cousin, not knowing that he was plighted to another. You may not forgive me for it; I can only say that I do not think that it was my fault; and I am sure that he--he was not to blame. You may punish me as you will"--there was a rising sob in Cynthia's throat--"but you must forgive him, and he will be true--true to you." She covered her face and burst into passionate tears. She could control herself no longer; and at first she hardly felt the touch of Enid's hand upon her arm, or heard the words of comfort that fell from Enid's lips. "You do not understand me," Enid was saying, when at last Cynthia could listen, "and I want to make you understand. I have misjudged you--will you forgive me? It has been very, very hard for you!" The tears were rolling down her own cheeks as she spoke. Cynthia surrendered her hand to Enid's clasp, and listened as if she were in a dream--a pleasant beautiful dream, too good to last. "We may perhaps be divided all our lives," said Enid, "because of things that happened when we were children--things that you cannot help any more than I. But, as far as it is possible, I want always to be your friend. Think of me as your friend--will you not, Cynthia?" "If I may," said Cynthia. "I shall always remember you," Enid went on. "And I do not think that it was wrong for you to love Hubert, or for him to love you--and he does love you, does he not? You need not be afraid to tell me, because I came here chiefly for one thing--to tell him that I cannot marry him, and to ask him to set me free." "Not for my sake?" said Cynthia, trembling from head to foot.