He waited too; and then altering again from his passionate reproach, he said softly— "I will wait for you, my Nellie, till you can be ready. I will wait any time you name." "I am not 'your Nellie,'" she answered, "and you must not wait. Good-bye; I can bear no more." She turned to the door, but he came up to her once more and stood between her and it. "I will not oblige you to leave the room," he said bitterly; "I will go. Good-bye." And in another moment, the front door slammed heavily, and he was gone. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXIII. GUESSING. GONE! Nellie would have given everything she possessed, in those first moments, to recall her lover. Her lover no longer—cut off from her by her own definite act. She stood where he had left her, unable to shape any distinct thought, hardly knowing what she was doing. Then her eyes fell upon the bunch of violets. She took them up off the table and looked at them a long time. "They were for me," she thought, "but I do not think I ought to have them now." She slowly began to put the room straight. "Ada will be home soon," she said, glancing at the clock. When all was done, and the table cleared, with the exception of the violets, she paused; then rang the bell and stood waiting. "I want some water for these, Simmons," she said. Simmons went to fetch it, and Nellie placed them in the vase, and then, leaving them on the sideboard, went upstairs to her room. She felt stunned. Things had not turned out as she had expected. Knowing something of Wilmot's character, she had prepared herself for a struggle; but that he should leave her in anger was almost more than she could endure. She sat down on the ottoman at the foot of her bed, the misery of having hurt him crushing her young heart. Oh that she could have gone to bed, she thought, there to weep out her sorrow unseen! This was impossible; the whole house would be dismayed. No, she must bear it. After all, she had passed through the worst of this decision of hers months ago. When she made that solemn promise to her dying step-mother, had she not felt the shadow of it creeping over her? When her father had claimed her entire devotion, had she not known what it must cost? "Nellie, not dressed for dinner! The first bell has rung," said Ada, coming in hastily, and throwing her things on the bed. "Why, Nellie, are you not well, dear?" she added, looking at her sister. "Only a sort of headache," answered Nellie, putting her hand to her forehead as if she were dazed. "I'm so sorry," answered Ada, hurrying on with her preparations; "perhaps it will be better for some dinner?" "Perhaps it will," she answered. "I say, Nellie, who brought or sent those lovely violets? I never saw such a bunch." "Mr. Elliot." "Wilmot! Who for?" "He did not say; he left them there." "For you, of course. I believe, Nellie, he's getting fond of you." "Oh, hush, Ada, dear."