"I came here to tell you what is in my
mind," she said; "and I _will_ tell it!" She seated herself upright on
the slope; and clasping her hands round her knees, looked out steadily,
straight before her, at the slowly darkening view. In that strange
position, she waited until she had composed herself, and then addressed
the captain, without turning her head to look round at him, in these
words:
"When you and I first met," she began, abruptly, "I tried hard to keep
my thoughts to myself. I know enough by this time to know that I failed.
When I first told you at York that Michael Vanstone had ruined us, I
believe you guessed for yourself that I, for one, was determined not to
submit to it. Whether you guessed or not, it is so. I left my friends
with that determination in my mind; and I feel it in me now stronger,
ten times stronger, than ever."
"Ten times stronger than ever," echoed the captain. "Exactly so--the
natural result of firmness of character."
"No--the natural result of having nothing else to think of. I had
something else to think of before you found me ill in Vauxhall Walk. I
have nothing else to think of now. Remember that, if you find me for the
future always harping on the same string.
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