In one sense it _would_ be a kindness to spare you the shame of a humiliating confession, and to save you (possibly) from being rejected to your face by the man you love.

In my opinion, the thing is done already.

I have reasons of my own for believing that my aunt will succeed far more easily than she could anticipate.

Horace's temper will help her." Mercy's mind began to yield to him, in spite of herself.
"What do you mean by Horace's temper ?" she inquired.
"Must you ask me that ?" he said, drawing back a little from her.
"I must." "I mean by Horace's temper, Horace's unworthy distrust of the interest that I feel in you." She instantly understood him.

And more than that, she secretly admired him for the scrupulous delicacy with which he had expressed himself.
Another man would not have thought of sparing her in that way.