"I could not have resisted. My father is so loving—so kind. He would have told me of your grandeur, your long descent, of the noble—nay, royal ladies—that had been mated with the Hursts. He would have crushed me under the weight of my own miserable presumption. He would have told me, in plain speech, what my heart reproaches me with every minute now most of all, when I am daring to be so happy."
"But you are happy?"
"Oh, Walton, it seems like wickedness, but I am; so weak, however, so fearful of what must come. Oh, give me a little time! Permit me to dream a while until some chance or great necessity makes concealment impossible. I have no courage left."
"But this Storms?"
"I have got a little respite from my father; he will not break his word, though I pleaded with him almost upon my knees—but I am not to be hurried. They are to give me time, and now, that I know in my heart that it can never, never be, the terror of him is gone. So let me have just one little season of rest before you break this to my poor father, and make me afraid to look Sir Noel in the face."
Perhaps this sweet pleading found some answer in the young man's wishes, for in speaking of Sir Noel's conversation in the library, he had discovered how little there was in it to warrant the step he had taken. At the best there was much in his rash precipitancy to displease the proud old baronet, though he should be found willing to forgive the mésalliance he had made.
If these thoughts had great influence with Hurst, the terror and troubled eloquence of his bride completed his conviction. Drawing Ruth gently toward him, he kissed her upon the forehead; for this conversation, coming into the midst of their happiness, had subdued them both.
"Be it as you wish, sweet wife. With perfect love and trust in each other, we need be in no haste to let any one share our secret."
"Oh, how kind you are!" exclaimed the girl, brightening into fresh happiness. "This will give me time to study, to add something to the education that will be precious to me now; perhaps I can make myself less unworthy of your father's forgiveness."
"Unworthy?" answered Hurst, wounded, yet half charmed by her sweet humility. "Sir Noel has always looked upon you as a pretty favorite, whom it was a pleasure to protect; and my cousin, the Lady Rose—"