He knows it. The only one in the
world to whom I wish it to be known, knows it already well enough. Did you
send to me for this?"
"Yes--for this."
"It is for him to tell me the tidings--not for you. You are nothing to me
--nothing. And what you say to me now is all for yourself--not for him.
But it is true that he does not see me. It is true that he does not write
to me. You may tell him from me--for I cannot write to him myself--that he
may do whatever is best for him. But if you tell him that I do not love
him better than all the world, you will lie to him. And if you say that he
loves you better than he does me, that also will be a lie. I know his
heart."
"But, Lucy--"
"I will hear no more. He can do as he pleases. If money be more to him
than love and honesty, let him marry you. I shall never trouble him; he
may be sure of that. As for you, Lizzie, I hope that we may never meet
again."
She would not get into the Eustace-Carbuncle carriage, which was waiting
for her at the door, but walked back to Bruton Street. She did not doubt
but that it was all over with her now. That Lizzie Eustace was an
inveterate liar, she knew well; but she did believe that the liar had on
this occasion been speaking truth.
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