Dora Thorne [120]
I never will be; no man would, or could take advantage of a promise obtained from a willful, foolish child."
"I will appeal to Lord Earle," he said; I will lay my claim before him."
"You may do so," she replied; "and, although he will never look upon me again, he will protect me from you."
She saw the angry light flame in his eyes; she heard his breath come in quick, short gasps, and the danger of quarreling with him struck her. She laid her hand upon his arm, and he trembled at the gentle touch.
"Hugh," she said, "do not be angry. You are a brave man; I know that in all your life you never shrank from danger or feared peril. The brave are always generous, always noble; think of what I am going to say. Suppose that, by the exercise of any power, you could really compel me to be your wife, what would it benefit you? I should not love you, I tell you candidly. I should detest you for spoiling my life--I would never see you. What would you gain by forcing me to keep my promise?"
He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the water came up the bank with a long, low wash.
"I appeal to your generosity," she said--"your nobility of character. Release me from a promise I made in ignorance; I appeal to your very love for me--release me, that I may be happy. Those who love truly," she continued, receiving no reply, "never love selfishly. If I cared for any one as you do for me, I should consider my own happiness last or all. If you love me, release me, Hugh. I can never be happy with you."
"Why not?" he asked, tightening his grasp upon her arm.
"Not from mercenary motives," she replied, earnestly; "not because my father is wealthy, my home magnificent, and you belong to another grade of society--not for that, but because I do not love you. I never did love you as a girl should love the man she means to marry."
"You are very candid," said he, bitterly; "pray, is there any one else you love in this way?"
"That is beside the question," she replied, haughtily; "I am speaking of you and myself. Hugh, if you will give me my freedom if you will agree to forget the foolish promise of a foolish child--I will respect and esteem you while I live; I shall bless you every day; your name will be a sacred one enshrined in my heart, your memory will be a source of pleasure to me. You shall be my friend, Hugh, and I will be a true friend to you."
"Beatrice," he cried, "do not tempt me!"
"Yes, be tempted," she said; "let me urge you to be generous, to be noble! See, Hugh, I have never prayed to any man--I pray to you; I would kneel here at your feet and beseech you to release me from a promise I never meant to give."
Her words touched him. She saw the softened look upon his face, the flaming anger die out of his eyes.
"Hugh," she said, softly, "I, Beatrice Earle, pray you, by the love you bear me, to release me from all claim, and leave me in peace.
"Let me think," he replied; "give me a few minutes; no man could part so hastily with the dearest treasure he has. Let me think what I lose in giving you up."
Chapter XL
They stood for some time in perfect silence; they had wandered down to the very edge of the lake. The water rippled in the moonlight, and while Hugh Fernely thought, Beatrice looked into the clear depths. How near she was to her triumph! A few minutes more and he would turn to her and tell her she was free. His face was growing calm and gentle. She would dismiss him with grateful thanks; she would hasten home. How calm would be that night's sleep! When she saw Lord Airlie in the morning, all her sorrow and shame would have passed by. Her heart beat high as she thought of this.
"I think it must be so," said Hugh Fernely, at last; "I think I must give you up, Beatrice. I could not bear to make you miserable. Look up, my darling; let me see your face once more before I say goodbye."
She stood before him, and the thick dark shawl fell from her shoulders upon the grass; she did not miss it in the blinding joy that had fallen upon her. Hugh Fernely's gaze
"I will appeal to Lord Earle," he said; I will lay my claim before him."
"You may do so," she replied; "and, although he will never look upon me again, he will protect me from you."
She saw the angry light flame in his eyes; she heard his breath come in quick, short gasps, and the danger of quarreling with him struck her. She laid her hand upon his arm, and he trembled at the gentle touch.
"Hugh," she said, "do not be angry. You are a brave man; I know that in all your life you never shrank from danger or feared peril. The brave are always generous, always noble; think of what I am going to say. Suppose that, by the exercise of any power, you could really compel me to be your wife, what would it benefit you? I should not love you, I tell you candidly. I should detest you for spoiling my life--I would never see you. What would you gain by forcing me to keep my promise?"
He made no reply. The wind bent the reeds, and the water came up the bank with a long, low wash.
"I appeal to your generosity," she said--"your nobility of character. Release me from a promise I made in ignorance; I appeal to your very love for me--release me, that I may be happy. Those who love truly," she continued, receiving no reply, "never love selfishly. If I cared for any one as you do for me, I should consider my own happiness last or all. If you love me, release me, Hugh. I can never be happy with you."
"Why not?" he asked, tightening his grasp upon her arm.
"Not from mercenary motives," she replied, earnestly; "not because my father is wealthy, my home magnificent, and you belong to another grade of society--not for that, but because I do not love you. I never did love you as a girl should love the man she means to marry."
"You are very candid," said he, bitterly; "pray, is there any one else you love in this way?"
"That is beside the question," she replied, haughtily; "I am speaking of you and myself. Hugh, if you will give me my freedom if you will agree to forget the foolish promise of a foolish child--I will respect and esteem you while I live; I shall bless you every day; your name will be a sacred one enshrined in my heart, your memory will be a source of pleasure to me. You shall be my friend, Hugh, and I will be a true friend to you."
"Beatrice," he cried, "do not tempt me!"
"Yes, be tempted," she said; "let me urge you to be generous, to be noble! See, Hugh, I have never prayed to any man--I pray to you; I would kneel here at your feet and beseech you to release me from a promise I never meant to give."
Her words touched him. She saw the softened look upon his face, the flaming anger die out of his eyes.
"Hugh," she said, softly, "I, Beatrice Earle, pray you, by the love you bear me, to release me from all claim, and leave me in peace.
"Let me think," he replied; "give me a few minutes; no man could part so hastily with the dearest treasure he has. Let me think what I lose in giving you up."
Chapter XL
They stood for some time in perfect silence; they had wandered down to the very edge of the lake. The water rippled in the moonlight, and while Hugh Fernely thought, Beatrice looked into the clear depths. How near she was to her triumph! A few minutes more and he would turn to her and tell her she was free. His face was growing calm and gentle. She would dismiss him with grateful thanks; she would hasten home. How calm would be that night's sleep! When she saw Lord Airlie in the morning, all her sorrow and shame would have passed by. Her heart beat high as she thought of this.
"I think it must be so," said Hugh Fernely, at last; "I think I must give you up, Beatrice. I could not bear to make you miserable. Look up, my darling; let me see your face once more before I say goodbye."
She stood before him, and the thick dark shawl fell from her shoulders upon the grass; she did not miss it in the blinding joy that had fallen upon her. Hugh Fernely's gaze