  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 passion 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 assured her that Gilbert was unconscious of Silwood's frauds; indeed, she had not required any such assurance. 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." The girl took his hand and pressed it gently. "I have made up my mind," she said gravely. Eversleigh, unable to speak, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it. Punctually at twelve Bennet made his appearance at Ivydene. He found Kitty waiting for him in the shrubbery in front of the house. "I have come for your answer," he said, without prelude. "Is it Yes or No, Miss Thornton," he asked excitedly. "Will you listen to me first—just a moment," she pleaded, as she saw the impatient working of his face; "only a moment?" "Well," Harry replied grudgingly; "what is it?" "If you will tell me how much Mr. Eversleigh owes you, I will pay it to you—every farthing," replied Kitty. Bennet shook his head with an almost savage gesture. "Miss Thornton," said he, "you will not understand me. I have told you that I love you. And all's fair in love and war. I am glad to have this hold on you—glad to think that if it is even against your will I have such a chance of making you marry me, and I shall not relinquish it. Don't you see, Kitty, I should be a fool to give you up?" "I will give you twice the amount Mr. Eversleigh owes you, if you like." "It is useless, quite useless, to make any proposition of that kind," said Bennet, who, of course, thought that the girl's money would come to him in any case. "Will you marry me, yes or no?" "But you know, Mr. Bennet, that I do not love you. You know that I am engaged to Gilbert Eversleigh?" "Gilbert Eversleigh!" cried Bennet, with a fierce, scowling, threatening expression. "Why should I consider him? He took you from me; if it had not been for him, perhaps you would have loved me. I hate and loathe the very sound of his name. I should like to see him disgraced and ruined, but I am foregoing that gratification because I love you. I would rather marry you than wreak my vengeance on him, and to give up this opportunity of revenge is no slight thing for me to do." "He has given you no cause for such feelings!" "Cause enough," said Bennet. "But all this is stupid. For the last time, I tell you that the fate of the Eversleighs is in your power. Will you send Francis Eversleigh to prison, or will you marry me? That is the issue. And you must answer at once; I will be trifled with no longer." Kitty, however, did not speak. There was a sudden panic in the girl's heart. She was asking how could she bring herself to marry this man, with his coarseness and brutality. "It is No, then!" exclaimed Bennet. "You doom your friends to hopeless ruin and infamy." "Mr. Bennet, the answer is Yes," said Kitty, her voice quivering, but her heart once more steadfast. "You will marry me?" asked Bennet, a note of joy in his rough tones. "Yes, to save the Eversleighs." "You will marry me soon?" "Mr. Bennet, you must remember that my father has only been dead a few weeks." "Kitty, now you have promised to marry me," said Bennet, and he spoke with an accent of sincerity, "I will remember anything you like to ask me to remember, for I do love you. But you will not keep me waiting too long?" Having gained his object, Bennet tried to drop the bully and to become the lover. "You do love me," said Kitty, scanning his face. "With all my soul!" "And yet your love is not strong enough to make you give me up—even when you know I do not love you, and that my love is another's?" "Oh, I am not that sort of man; I am uncommonly human. When I see my chance I go for it with all my might; and here is my chance come by wonderful luck, and I take it. What an ass I should be not to take it! Do you blame me so much for doing so, when you, Kitty, are the prize to be won?" Confident now that he had carried the day, Bennet spoke quite pleasantly. He even attempted to put his arm round the girl, but she would not let him. "Mr. Bennet," she said, the colour burning in her cheeks, "I have promised to marry you, and I shall not break my word, but I do not love you. Pray spare me until—until——" And she stopped with a slight choke. Bennet swore under his breath. Aloud he said, "As you please, Kitty," and stood frowning at her heavily. "My promise to you," Kitty reminded him, "is conditional on your giving Mr. Eversleigh a full discharge from all his indebtedness to you." "Yes. You shall have the necessary document from me on the day of our marriage; that is fair, is it not?" "Will you not let me have it now, or very soon?" "I'm to give everything and get nothing?" asked Bennet. But even as he put this question he told himself there was no danger of the girl going back from her promise, and that he might safely let her have the discharge. Still, if he did so, it must be on terms. So he continued, "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you that discharge the first time you kiss me." Kitty, though her heart felt like breaking all the while, smiled a wan assent. "Is it a bargain?" he inquired. And she nodded. "You shall have the discharge," cried Bennet, "as soon as it can be prepared. Does that content you?" "Yes," said Kitty, and there was a pause. "My proposed marriage to you," said Kitty, speaking again, "will bring about some changes. It is quite plain that I can stay no longer at Ivydene with the Eversleighs—they will not understand why I am acting as I am doing, and, indeed, they must not suspect why it is. I shall have to invent some plea—some excuse. Until I have gone—for I must go—I do not wish them to know that I am to marry you. Francis Eversleigh will know, but none of the rest need know until I have left Surbiton." "Where do you think of going?" inquired Bennet. "You must not go far away." "I have a distant relative—a second cousin of my father's—in Yorkshire. She is an elderly lady, and has more than once asked me to pay her a visit. It is to her that I shall go. Indeed, there is no other to whom I could go; she is the only relative that I have in the world." "Yorkshire is a long way off," said Bennet. "I can think of nothing else," she said. "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.
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