“My mother has told me of your proposal, Zana,” he said, in a clear, but not untroubled voice; “your wish is a generous one. The rights you would surrender are great, but I will not accede to this proposal.”
I started so violently that one of the Sèvres cups fell to the ground. A cry almost broke from my lips. This reprieve from my own wishes filled me with joy.
“Why, why?” I could not ask these questions aloud; they fell from my lips in broken whispers.
“Because I will not despoil you of your birthright—because I do not love the lady whom you propose for my wife.”
“Not love her, Mr. Irving; forbear!”
I could not go on; his mother’s presence checked me; but once more my heart was filled with indignation at his audacity.
“Then you refuse?” I said, rising—“you refuse to render this poor justice to one who loves, who has”——
Again I checked myself. Lady Catherine was close to the table. Irving listened patiently, and kept his eyes fastened on my face, as if asking some further explanation.
“It is possible,” I said, “that you think lightly of my claims, and thus reject the sacrifice I would make.”
“No,” he said, “I am satisfied that your claims to the estate are valid; only this morning I joined my mother’s legal counsel in advising her to yield possession at once.”