"No, not a soul."

"Then it is only Mr. Bennet you have to fear?"

"Yes; but is that not sufficient?"

"I am afraid it is. Still, if there was to be found a way of satisfying him, would that release you from further worries of the same kind?"

"Kitty," said Eversleigh, speaking with much emotion; "Kitty, I shall not pretend not to understand what you refer to when you talk of finding a way to satisfy Bennet. He told me what he intended doing--how he was to disclose to you that my fate was in his hands, and to declare to you he would not prosecute me if you would promise to marry him. It seems to me a monstrous proposition--that you should sacrifice yourself for me.

No, Kitty, you must not marry him. You must leave us to our fate."

As Eversleigh said these words, there was a ring in his voice that had long been absent from it. He really meant what he said.

"I shall not leave you and the others to their fate," cried Kitty; "you are all dear to me--and then," she said shyly, "there is Gilbert. Mr.

Bennet declares Gilbert will be involved in your ruin; that is," she added gently, "if you were found to be a party to--irregularities; then, in that case he would be compelled to give up the Bar."

Eversleigh nodded gloomily.

"I fear that would be so," he said with a gasp.

"Gilbert is dearer to me than myself," Kitty went on, blushing a little, "and I must save him if I can."

Neither spoke for a few minutes.

"You are a brave, heroic woman," said Eversleigh, at last. "But Gilbert will never consent to your sacrificing yourself in this way."

"Gilbert need not know until you are safe out of Bennet's grasp,"

suggested Kitty. "And do you not see that I am between two fires," she continued; "so that I must yield myself? If the worst befall you, then you, dear Mrs. Eversleigh who has been a mother to me, your sons and your daughter, will be made miserable for ever! Oh, I cannot think of it! And then there is my love for Gilbert! No," she sighed in a whisper; "I cannot ruin him."

"You are a n.o.ble girl," said Eversleigh, with deep feeling; "but I, we--even Gilbert--have no right to expect such a sacrifice from you, Kitty."

The girl did not at once reply. Instead she gazed thoughtfully at him.

"I wonder if there is no other way of satisfying Mr. Bennet?" she asked.

"I do not know of any."

"Could you not take the money you owe him out of my fortune? Oh, I would give him the half of all I possess--nay, the whole of it, if that would satisfy him."

"Kitty," said Eversleigh, in so despairing a voice, that it made her start in a sudden terror that he was about to do something desperate.

"Kitty, I see I must tell you everything. Indeed, I should have told you everything sooner, but I am a weak, cowardly wretch. For nearly two months I have endured tortures every hour and every moment, ever since the day Silwood told me that he had embezzled--that is the bitter word--and appropriated to his own use for speculations on the Stock Exchange the money and property of our clients--yours, Kitty, along with the rest. And I, fool that I was, never knew anything of it! I suspected nothing. It was the expected coming of your father which made Silwood speak out. Kitty, the part of your fortune which was in our charge has gone--it does not exist."

Kitty was silent.

"Why do you not reproach me?" inquired Eversleigh. "There is nothing you would say that I should not deserve."

And then he saw she was crying quietly. But it was not for the loss of the greater part of her fortune.

"How you must have suffered!" she said, through her tears.

And now the man broke down helplessly and wept like a child.

"I must save him," she said to herself with determination. "If there is no other way, then I must marry Mr. Bennet."

But even while she felt strong enough to carry out her purpose, there was a great cry of desolation in her heart; she tried to still it with the thought that there was something in the world even higher than love.

CHAPTER XXIV

After Kitty had left Francis Eversleigh she would have preferred to retire to the seclusion of her bedroom, but she knew that if she did so it would cause surprise to her friends and lead them to guess something was amiss. Anxious to spare them, she forced herself to join them in the drawing-room, and sat for an hour, taking her part in the general talk.

Then, saying she was rather tired, she withdrew.

Between the making of a heroic resolve likely to cost the maker dear, and the carrying out heroically of all the resolve entails, there is, unless resolve and deed go swift together, room for many changes of feeling not unlike the rising and the falling of waves. Within Kitty's breast the waves rose and fell that night, now bearing her aloft so that the sacrifice of herself seemed easy, now burying her in depths which made it appear impossible.

She did not really waver in her determination; her mind was made up to save the Eversleighs from the calamity which threatened them. What troubled her most was the way in which she should communicate her decision to Gilbert. She knew that he loved her with all the strength and pa.s.sion of a strong nature, and he knew that she loved him. And now she must tell him that she was not going to marry him, but Bennet, the very man, in fact, against whom she had warned her lover, and whom, she was well aware, he detested. How was she to break the news to him? How tell him so that he would understand her decision was irrevocable?

For one thing, he must not know why she was breaking off their engagement. Francis Eversleigh had a.s.sured her that Gilbert was unconscious of Silwood's frauds; indeed, she had not required any such a.s.surance. And she was determined that he should not know from her. She saw, then, that she could give him no explanation. She must just tell him bluntly she had changed her mind. But, in that case, what would he think of her? what must he think of her? And that she should choose Bennet of all men! Gilbert could not but misunderstand her. He must think her deceit itself.

It was this thought, more than any other, that sunk her deep in gulfs of despair.

And then she told herself that this, too--this renunciation of the good opinion of her lover, this misunderstanding she must subject herself to--was part of the price she had agreed to pay to save him and his father from ruin. "And Gilbert," she said in her heart, "will never know what I have done for him. He will deem me fickle, false, base, a cheat and a lie!"

And then a sort of rage came upon her, and she asked why this fate had been thrust upon her; what had she done to be made the victim of such outrageous fortune?

"Why should I suffer thus cruelly?" she cried rebelliously. "Is there no escape?"

She thought of what she had said to Francis Eversleigh--how she would gladly give up her wealth to Bennet if that would satisfy him. And now she remembered that the whole of her fortune was not lost, for there was still a considerable portion of it in Canada. Could she not make a bargain with Bennet? She resolved to try, but she did not believe she would succeed.

If she failed, and she felt she would, and was compelled to agree to marry Bennet, then it would be impossible to stay any longer with the Eversleighs; she must make arrangements for leaving them at once. They, too, would think her hateful and detestable. It was all very bitter!

"Yet they must never know," said Kitty, pondering darkly all these things through the long blank hours.

In the morning she saw Francis Eversleigh alone for a few moments.

"Kitty," he said, in a shaking voice, "you must not sacrifice yourself.

It is not right. Tell Bennet to do his worst. We must bear it as best we can."

There was a brave smile in the girl's eyes as she answered him.

"I have decided," she responded. "You need have no fear. If there is no other way, I'll marry Mr. Bennet."

Then she stopped and looked at him earnestly.

"It may not be necessary," she remarked. "Perhaps the money and property I have in Canada will be enough to satisfy him."

"Kitty, Kitty," cried Eversleigh, "I do not know what to say--do not know how to tell you, but I so love and admire you! But you must not blight all your sweet young life for me--it is not right. As it is, you suffer enough at my hands in the loss of the greater part of the fortune your father worked so hard for."