I did not cry as I said the words; I was quite past tears that evening, and Jasmine continued to sit near me and to talk in soft tones, and after a time she relapsed into silence, a sort of despairing silence, and I lay with my eyes closed, for I could not look at her, and presently I dropped asleep. At an early hour the next day I wrote to the Fannings to tell them that I would go with them to Switzerland. I went and saw Jasmine after I had written the note. "I am going with the Fannings to Switzerland on the 4th of August," I said; "will this interfere with your plans? I mean, may I stay on here until they start?" "Oh yes, you can stay on here, Westenra," she replied. She looked at me fixedly. I thought she would say something to dissuade me, but she did not. She opened her lips once, but no words came. She simply said-- "Is that the letter?" "Yes." "I am going out," she said then; "I will post it for you." "Thank you," I answered. I went back to the drawing-room. I heard Jasmine go downstairs and out, and then I sat quiet. Everything seemed to have come to a sort of end; I could not see my way any further. In a fortnight's time I should have truly stepped down out of sight of those who were my friends. I should have left them for ever and ever. It would be a final stepping down for me. Nevertheless, the faintest thought of being unfaithful to the promise I had made, I am glad to think now, never for a single moment occurred to me. Jasmine returned to lunch, and after lunch we went to the drawing-room, and she asked me if I would like to drive with her. I said-- "Yes, but not in the Park." Perhaps she guessed what I meant. "Jim has come back," she remarked; "I had a line from him, and he wants to see you this evening." "Oh, I cannot see him," I answered. "I think you must. You ought to tell him yourself; it is only fair to him. Tell him just what you told me; he ought to know, and it will pain him less to hear it from your lips." I thought for a moment. "What hour is he coming?" I asked then. "He will look in after dinner about nine o'clock. I am going to a reception with Henry; you will have the drawing-room to yourselves." I did not reply. She looked at me, then she said-- "I have written already to tell him that he can come. It is absolutely necessary, Westenra, that you should go through this; it will be, I know, most painful to you both, but it is only just to him." Still I did not answer. After a time she said-- "I do not wish to dissuade you; indeed, I cannot myself see how you can get out of this most mistaken engagement, for the man has behaved well, and I am the first to acknowledge that; but has it ever occurred to you that you do a man an absolute and terrible injustice when you marry him, loving with all your heart and soul another man? Do you think it is fair to him? Don't you think he ought at least to know this?"