She paused and sat with kindling eyes, glowing cheeks, and both hands

pressed to her heaving bosom, as if the old insult roused her spirit

anew. Coventry said not a word, for surprise, anger, incredulity, and

admiration mingled so confusedly in his mind that he forgot to speak,

and Jean went on, "That wild act of mine convinced him of my indomitable

dislike. He went away, and I believed that this stormy love of his would

be cured by absence. It is not, and I live in daily fear of fresh

entreaties, renewed persecution. His mother promised not to betray where

I had gone, but he found me out and wrote to me. The letter I asked you

to take to Lady Sydney was a reply to his, imploring him to leave me in

peace. You failed to deliver it, and I was glad, for I thought silence

might quench hope. All in vain; this is a more passionate appeal than

ever, and he vows he will never desist from his endeavors till I give

another man the right to protect me. I can do this--I am sorely

tempted to do it, but I rebel against the cruelty. I love my freedom, I

have no wish to marry at this man's bidding. What can I do? How cart I

free myself? Be my friend, and help me!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks, sobs choked her words, and she clasped

her hands imploringly as she turned toward the young man in all the

abandonment of sorrow, fear, and supplication. Coventry found it hard to

meet those eloquent eyes and answer calmly, for he had no experience in

such scenes and knew not how to play his part. It is this absurd dress

and that romantic nonsense which makes me feel so unlike myself, he

thought, quite unconscious of the dangerous power which the dusky room,

the midsummer warmth and fragrance, the memory of the "romantic

nonsense," and, most of all, the presence of a beautiful, afflicted

woman had over him. His usual self-possession deserted him, and he could

only echo the words which had made the strongest impression upon him: "You can do this, you are tempted to do it. Is Ned the man who can

protect you?"

"No" was the soft reply.

"Who then?"

"Do not ask me. A good and honorable man; one who loves me well, and

would devote his life to me; one whom once it would have been happiness

to marry, but now--"

There her voice ended in a sigh, and all her fair hair fell down about

her face, hiding it in a shining veil.

"Why not now? This is a sure and speedy way of ending your distress. Is

it impossible?"

In spite of himself, Gerald leaned nearer, took one of the little hands

in his, and pressed it as he spoke, urgently, compassionately, nay,

almost tenderly. From behind the veil came a heavy sigh, and the brief

answer, "It is impossible."




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