"Tressilian," answered the lady, "I cannot, I must not, I dare not leave
this place. Go back to my father--tell him I will obtain leave to see
him within twelve hours from hence. Go back, Tressilian--tell him I am
well, I am happy--happy could I think he was so; tell him not to fear
that I will come, and in such a manner that all the grief Amy has given
him shall be forgotten--the poor Amy is now greater than she dare name.
Go, good Tressilian--I have injured thee too, but believe me I have
power to heal the wounds I have caused. I robbed you of a childish
heart, which was not worthy of you, and I can repay the loss with
honours and advancement."
"Do you say this to me, Amy?--do you offer me pageants of idle ambition,
for the quiet peace you have robbed me of!--But be it so I came not
to upbraid, but to serve and to free you. You cannot disguise it from
me--you are a prisoner. Otherwise your kind heart--for it was once a
kind heart--would have been already at your father's bedside.--Come,
poor, deceived, unhappy maiden!--all shall be forgot--all shall be
forgiven. Fear not my importunity for what regarded our contract--it was
a dream, and I have awaked. But come--your father yet lives--come, and
one word of affection, one tear of penitence, will efface the memory of
all that has passed."
"Have I not already said, Tressilian," replied she, "that I will surely
come to my father, and that without further delay than is necessary to
discharge other and equally binding duties?--Go, carry him the news;
I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is, when I obtain
permission."
"Permission!--permission to visit your father on his sick-bed, perhaps
on his death-bed!" repeated Tressilian, impatiently; "and permission
from whom? From the villain, who, under disguise of friendship, abused
every duty of hospitality, and stole thee from thy father's roof!"
"Do him no slander, Tressilian! He whom thou speakest of wears a sword
as sharp as thine--sharper, vain man; for the best deeds thou hast
ever done in peace or war were as unworthy to be named with his, as thy
obscure rank to match itself with the sphere he moves in.--Leave me!
Go, do mine errand to my father; and when he next sends to me, let him
choose a more welcome messenger."
"Amy," replied Tressilian calmly, "thou canst not move me by thy
reproaches. Tell me one thing, that I may bear at least one ray of
comfort to my aged friend:--this rank of his which thou dost boast--dost
thou share it with him, Amy?--does he claim a husband's right to control
thy motions?"