"You will let me know what you decide," said Bennet, after an interval of silence.

"Yes. I'll write you. And now good-bye," said Kitty; "I feel tired and worn out."

When Bennet had gone, Kitty braced herself for the painful tasks which lay before her. First of all, she told Mrs. Eversleigh that she was going to Yorkshire next day, and though Mrs. Eversleigh said very little, the girl saw that she was hurt, offended, and greatly mystified.

And Helen Eversleigh, Kitty could not but notice, thought her conduct strange. But neither of the Eversleigh ladies pressed her for an explanation, for which Kitty was thankful.

But infinitely the hardest thing was what she should say to Gilbert. She sat down in her room with a sheet of paper before her, but for a long while she could not bring herself to touch her pen. How she wished she could tell him something of the truth--tell him that she was not the false, fickle light o' love he must think her!

Again she had to fight the battle with herself, and again she triumphed.

It was a very short letter, but it was written in her heart's blood.

"Dear Gilbert," it ran, "I have changed my mind. Our engagement must be broken off. I intend marrying Mr. Bennet.--KITTY."

CHAPTER XXV

Ever since the discovery of Morris Thornton's body in Silwood's rooms, in Stone Buildings, Gilbert Eversleigh had constantly felt that he moved in an atmosphere of mystery, which affected him so closely that he could not but be very uncomfortable. He attempted in various ways to get further light, but without success. Another thing which worried him not a little was the poor health of his father, and the increasing disinclination the latter showed to attend to business. Over against these disquieting circ.u.mstances there were to be set Kitty's love for him, and his love for her, which far over-balanced them.

That morning Gilbert, when he awoke, first thought of Kitty, and promised himself that, as he and she had arranged, they would have a long splendid time together that very day.

When he went in to breakfast, a small pile of letters lay on the table beside his plate. He took them up and scanned the writing of the addresses. Of course, he at once recognized Kitty's writing. For a moment he held her letter in his hand, a happy smile on his face, and was about to open it, but he put it down again, saying to himself that he would keep it to the last as a special treat. So he went through the rest of his correspondence, and read it rather slowly, to put off the moment of delight which should be his when he came to the girl's letter.

At last he opened her letter.

"Dear Gilbert," he read. Instantly he was alarmed, for this was not the way she generally began her letters to him. "I have changed my mind,"

ran the words; his alarm increased. But when he next came to the words, "Our engagement must be broken off. I intend marrying Mr. Bennet," a feeling of stupefaction overcame him. He read the short letter over and over again in a mechanical sort of way, hardly taking in its meaning.

"'I have changed my mind,'" he repeated to himself. "'Our engagement must be broken off. I intend marrying Mr. Bennet.'"

The thing was so sudden that at first it stunned him--he could not believe it.

But there it was in black and white, in Kitty's own writing.

"I have changed my mind!"

There was no mistaking that.

"Our engagement must be broken off. I intend marrying Mr. Bennet," she wrote.

These were her words, and there was no getting away from them.

So everything was at an end between them!

More than that, Kitty was to marry Bennet!

With a sudden movement of anguish and rage, Gilbert crumpled the letter in his hand and threw it from him. He sat for a while staring out of his window, while his mind began to work with incredible swiftness.

Kitty had jilted him--for Bennet!

But Gilbert knew the girl very well, and the first movements of grief, anger, pain, and amazement past, he tried to think the matter out calmly, with the result that he pa.s.sionately told himself Kitty was no jilt, and there must be something astounding behind her letter. Then he picked up the crumpled sheet of paper from the floor, smoothed it out, and read its contents once more. But there was neither light nor comfort to be got from them.

What could be the explanation of her extraordinary conduct? he wondered, for of course there must be some explanation. Kitty was no shallow flirt, no woman of mere caprice. Why had she done this?

But did her letter afford no hint?

She had not only thrown him over, but she announced she was to marry Bennet--Bennet, of all people in the world! Had she not warned him against this very man? And now she was to marry him!

Why?

As Gilbert sat in his room endeavouring to solve this problem, it seemed to him that he heard Kitty's rich voice saying in low and sincere accents the words--almost the last she had uttered when they were together by the river-side three evenings before, "I feel as if I could not exist without you now, Gilbert."

What could have brought about this mighty change? What sinister, malign influence had cast its spell over her?

As he thought and thought, it appeared to him plain enough that the girl's change of mind must a.s.sociate itself in some way with Bennet.

"Yet," said he to himself, "I know she loves me even as I love her. She does not love Bennet, whom she declares she now intends to marry. What pressure, in Heaven's name, can Bennet have brought to bear on her?

Pressure there must have been, and of the strongest kind, otherwise she would never dream of marrying him. What can it be?"

A little longer he sat asking questions to which he could furnish no answers.

"I shall go to Surbiton," he said at last, "and ask her what she means.

She has not forbidden me to see her, and I shall go at once."

But when he reached Ivydene, Kitty was not to be seen; she had left Surbiton by an early train that morning.

He found the house in some confusion, and in answer to his inquiries, he could discover no more than that Miss Thornton had departed for Yorkshire. He saw both his mother and his sister, but could glean very little from them. Both, he noticed, were greatly excited and distressed, but they told him that, beyond saying it was necessary for her to leave, Kitty had offered no explanation.

"I cannot understand it at all," said Mrs. Eversleigh. "Have you no idea of what has occurred to cause her to act in this strange manner, Gilbert?" she asked her son.

"I have not the slightest idea," replied Gilbert. "I got a short note this morning from her. It said nothing about leaving you. She said she had changed her mind with regard to our engagement, and that she was going to marry Mr. Bennet."

"Marry Mr. Bennet?" exclaimed Mrs. Eversleigh, her eyes wide with astonishment. "She did not tell me that. Oh, Gilbert, what does it all mean? My heart misgives me, there is something frightfully wrong! She told us last night, without any warning, that she was leaving us. Of course I did not like to question her--I had no right, and her manner was forbidding. But the poor girl looked very sad and unhappy. I spoke to your father about her, but he was too ill and miserable to discuss the subject, or, indeed, any subject. I did not wish him to go to town to-day; but he said it was most important he should go, and he went."

"Did he appear surprised at Miss Thornton's decision?"

"I cannot say he did. When she told him she was going, he only nodded."

"Do you think he knows why she has gone, and why she is going to marry Mr. Bennet?"

"I asked him these very questions, Gilbert; but he said he could not tell me anything. It is all very strange!"

"Very strange!" cried Gilbert. "It is perfectly maddening!"

"Perhaps you had better see your father," suggested Mrs. Eversleigh.