ss Swancourt! Why did you disturb me? Mustn't I trespass here?'

'You may walk here if you like, Mrs. Jethway. I do not disturb you.'

'You disturb my mind, and my mind is my whole life; for my boy is there
still, and he is gone from my body.'

'Yes, poor young man. I was sorry when he died.'

'Do you know what he died of?'

'Consumption.'

'Oh no, no!' said the widow. 'That word "consumption" covers a good
deal. He died because you were his own well-agreed sweetheart, and then
proved false--and it killed him. Yes, Miss Swancourt,' she said in an
excited whisper, 'you killed my son!'

'How can you be so wicked and foolish!' replied Elfride, rising
indignantly. But indignation was not natural to her, and having been so
worn and harrowed by late events, she lost any powers of defence
that mood might have lent her. 'I could not help his loving me, Mrs.
Jethway!'

'That's just what you could have helped. You know how it began, Miss
Elfride. Yes: you said you liked the name of Felix better than any other
name in the parish, and you knew it was his name, and that those you
said it to would report it to him.'

'I knew it was his name--of course I did; but I am sure, Mrs. Jethway, I
did not intend anybody to tell him.'

'But you knew they would.'

'No, I didn't.'

'And then, after that, when you were riding on Revels-day by our house,
and the lads were gathered there, and you wanted to dismount, when Jim
Drake and George Upway and three or four more ran forward to hold your
pony, and Felix stood back timid, why did you beckon to him, and say you
would rather he held it?'

'O Mrs. Jethway, you do think so mistakenly! I liked him best--that's
why I wanted him to do it. He was gentle and nice--I always thought him
so--and I liked him.'

'Then why did you let him kiss you?'

'It is a falsehood; oh, it is, it is!' said Elfride, weeping with
desperation. 'He came behind me, and attempted to kiss me; and that was
why I told him never to let me see him again.'

'But you did not tell your father or anybody, as you would have if you
had looked upon it then as the insult you now pretend it was.'

'He begged me not to tell, and foolishly enough I did not. And I wish
I had now. I little expected to be scourged with my own kindness. Pray
leave me, Mrs. Jethway.' The girl only expostulated now.

'Well, you harshly dismissed him, and he died. And before his body was
cold, you took another to your heart. Then as carelessl