FIRST NARRATIVE
2. CHAPTER II
(continued)
Her daughter stooped, and kissed her. I had left the window,
and was near the door, when Rachel approached it to go out.
Another change had come over her--she was in tears. I looked
with interest at the momentary softening of that obdurate heart.
I felt inclined to say a few earnest words. Alas! my well-meant
sympathy only gave offence. "What do you mean by pitying me?"
she asked in a bitter whisper, as she passed to the door.
"Don't you see how happy I am? I'm going to the flower-show, Clack;
and I've got the prettiest bonnet in London." She completed
the hollow mockery of that address by blowing me a kiss--and so left
the room.
I wish I could describe in words the compassion I felt for this miserable and
misguided girl. But I am almost as poorly provided with words as with money.
Permit me to say--my heart bled for her.
Returning to my aunt's chair, I observed dear Mr. Godfrey searching
for something softly, here and there, in different parts of the room.
Before I could offer to assist him he had found what he wanted.
He came back to my aunt and me, with his declaration of innocence in
one hand, and with a box of matches in the other.
"Dear aunt, a little conspiracy!" he said. "Dear Miss Clack,
a pious fraud which even your high moral rectitude will excuse!
Will you leave Rachel to suppose that I accept the generous
self-sacrifice which has signed this paper? And will you kindly
bear witness that I destroy it in your presence, before I leave
the house?" He kindled a match, and, lighting the paper,
laid it to burn in a plate on the table. "Any trifling
inconvenience that I may suffer is as nothing," he remarked,
"compared with the importance of preserving that pure name from
the contaminating contact of the world. There! We have reduced
it to a little harmless heap of ashes; and our dear impulsive
Rachel will never know what we have done! How do you feel?
My precious friends, how do you feel? For my poor part, I am as
light-hearted as a boy!"
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