If he had known the strait she was in, he would have understood the
cause of the sudden fervor of her words, the intense thankfulness that
shone in her face, the real humility that made her stoop and kiss the
generous hand that gave so much. For a few moments she enjoyed and let
him enjoy the happy present, undisturbed. But the anxiety which devoured
her, the danger which menaced her, soon recalled her, and forced her to
wring yet more from the unsuspicious heart she had conquered.
"No need of letters now," said Sir John, as they sat side by side, with
the summer moonlight glorifying all the room. "You have found a home for
life; may it prove a happy one."
"It is not mine yet, and I have a strange foreboding that it never will
be," she answered sadly.
"Why, my child?"
"Because I have an enemy who will try to destroy my peace, to poison
your mind against me, and to drive me out from my paradise, to suffer
again all I have suffered this last year."
"You mean that mad Sydney of whom you told me?"
"Yes. As soon as he hears of this good fortune to poor little Jean, he
will hasten to mar it. He is my fate; I cannot escape him, and wherever
he goes my friends desert me; for he has the power and uses it for my
destruction. Let me go away and hide before he comes, for, having shared
your confidence, it will break my heart to see you distrust and turn
from me, instead of loving and protecting."
"My poor child, you are superstitious. Be easy. No one can harm you now,
no one would dare attempt it. And as for my deserting you, that will
soon be out of my power, if I have my way."
"How, dear Sir John?" asked Jean, with a flutter of intense relief at
her heart, for the way seemed smoothing before her.
"I will make you my wife at once, if I may. This will free you from
Gerald's love, protect you from Sydney's persecution, give you a safe
home, and me the right to cherish and defend with heart and hand. Shall
it be so, my child?"
"Yes; but oh, remember that I have no friend but you! Promise me to be
faithful to the last--to believe in me, to trust me, protect and love
me, in spite of all misfortunes, faults, and follies. I will be true as
steel to you, and make your life as happy as it deserves to be. Let us
promise these things now, and keep the promises unbroken to the end."
Her solemn air touched Sir John. Too honorable and upright himself to
suspect falsehood in others, he saw only the natural impulse of a lovely
girl in Jean's words, and, taking the hand she gave him in both of his,
he promised all she asked, and kept that promise to the end. She paused
an instant, with a pale, absent expression, as if she searched herself,
then looked up clearly in the confiding face above her, and promised
what she faithfully performed in afteryears.