‘I would not trouble you again, but this is the third within four days. I returned the two former ones to himself, but he continues to write. May I ask your permission to speak to my relatives, for I feel that I ought to hide this no longer from them, and that we must take some measures for ending it. He does me the honour to wait near the house, and I never dare go out, since--for I will confess all to you, madame--he met me by the river on Monday. I am beginning to fear that his assiduities have been observed, and I should be much obliged if you would tell me how to act. Your kind perseverance in your goodness towards me is my greatest comfort, and I hope that you will still continue it, for indeed it is most unwillingly that I am a cause of perplexity and vexation to you. Entreating your pardon, ‘Your most faithful and obliged servant, Genevieve Celeste Durant.’ What was to be done? That broken pledge overpowered Albinia with a personal sense of shame, and though it set her free to tell all to her husband, she shrank from provoking his stern displeasure towards his son, and feared he might involve Genevieve in his anger. She dashed off a note to her poor little friend, telling her to do as she thought fit by her aunt and grandmother, and then sought another interview with the reluctant Gilbert, to whom she returned the letter, saying, ‘Oh, Gilbert, at least I thought you would keep your word.’ ‘I think,’ he said, angrily, trying for dignity, though bewrayed by his restless eyes and hands--‘I think it is too much to accuse me of--of--when I never said--What word did I ever give?’ ‘You promised never to persecute her again.’ ‘There may be two opinions as to what persecution means,’ said Gilbert. ‘I little thought of subterfuges. I trusted you.’ ‘Mrs. Kendal! hear me,’ he passionately cried. ‘You knew not the misery you imposed. To live so near, and not a word, not a look! I bore it as long as I could; but when Sophy would not so much as take one message, human nature could not endure.’ ‘Well, if you cannot restrain yourself like a rational creature, some means must be taken to free Miss Durant from a pursuit so injurious and disagreeable to her.’ ‘Ay,’ he cried, ‘you have filled her with your own prejudices, and inspired her with such a dread of the hateful fences of society, that she does not dare to confess--’ ‘For shame, Gilbert, you are accusing her of acting a part.’ ‘No!’ he exclaimed, ‘all I say is, that she has been so thrust down and forced back, that she cannot venture to avow her feelings even to herself!’ ‘Oh!’ said Albinia, ‘you conceited person!’ ‘Well!’ cried the boy, so much nettled by her sarcasm that he did not know what he said, ‘I think--considering--considering our situations, I might be worth her consideration!’ ‘Who put that in your head?’ asked Albinia. ‘You are too much a gentleman for it to have come there of its own accord.’