"I am not ungrateful, but I am very unhappy. It's hard to be
grateful for that," she said. "Will you please tell me where he is?"
"I haven't the least idea; I am not in secret correspondence with
him!" And Mrs. Penniman wished indeed that she were, so that she
might let him know how Catherine abused her, after all she had done.
"Was it a plan of his, then, to break off--?" By this time Catherine
had become completely quiet.
Mrs. Penniman began again to have a glimpse of her chance for
explaining. "He shrank--he shrank," she said. "He lacked courage,
but it was the courage to injure you! He couldn't bear to bring down
on you your father's curse."
Catherine listened to this with her eyes fixed upon her aunt, and
continued to gaze at her for some time afterwards. "Did he tell you
to say that?"
"He told me to say many things--all so delicate, so discriminating.
And he told me to tell you he hoped you wouldn't despise him."
"I don't," said Catherine. And then she added: "And will he stay
away for ever?"
"Oh, for ever is a long time. Your father, perhaps, won't live for
ever."
"Perhaps not."
"I am sure you appreciate--you understand--even though your heart
bleeds," said Mrs. Penniman. "You doubtless think him too
scrupulous. So do I, but I respect his scruples. What he asks of
you is that you should do the same."
Catherine was still gazing at her aunt, but she spoke at last, as if
she had not heard or not understood her.
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