I want you to promise never to mention it. I don't want him to
know that I ever received it."
Mrs. Adair was puzzled, and she hated to be puzzled. She had been shown
the telegram, but she had not been told that Ethne had written to
Durrance, pledging herself to him immediately upon its receipt. Ethne,
when she showed the telegram, had merely said, "I am engaged to him."
Mrs. Adair at once believed that the engagement had been of some
standing, and she had been allowed to continue in that belief.
"You will promise?" Ethne insisted.
"Certainly, my dear, if you like," returned Mrs. Adair, with an
ungracious shrug of the shoulders. "But there is a reason, I suppose. I
don't understand why you exact the promise."
"Two lives must not be spoilt because of me."
There was some ground for Mrs. Adair's suspicion that Ethne expected
the blind man to whom she was betrothed, with apprehension. It is true
that she was a little afraid. Just twelve months had passed since, in
this very room, on just such a sunlit afternoon, Ethne had bidden
Durrance try to forget her, and each letter which she had since received
had shown that, whether he tried or not, he had not forgotten.
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