“An’ thou wouldst have me die happy, say not that, sweet Hildebrand!” returned Inez. “Nay, promise me, on thine honour, that thou wilt wed—and no other than Evaline!”
Something whispered Hildebrand, that, even if he could overcome his own scruples to such a course, a marriage with Evaline was now out of the question. But, as this occurred to him, his eyes happened to meet those of Inez, and they looked on him so imploringly, and with such deep and pathetic solicitude, that he resolved not to disturb her last moments by any selfish apprehension, but to resign himself wholly to her wishes.
“I will be ordered by thy will,” he said.
“’Tis well, and I love thee the more for ’t,” pursued Inez—“yet not more, for that were not possible.”
“No, i’faith,” said Hildebrand. “How else couldst thou relinquish thy country, and the comforts of thy heritage, for a poor stranger?”
“I did it not unknowingly,” answered Inez. “One Felix di Corva, who had known thee in England, told me thou wast a cavalier of fortune, and, further, that thou wast betrothed to a lady of England. Methought, I would follow thee; and if his advertisement proved false (which I believed it would), discover myself to thee, and give thee my hand.”
“Would it had so turned out!” exclaimed Hildebrand.
“On our route to England,” continued Inez, “thou didst pledge me to thy mistress’s health; and, in thy description of her, didst laud her in such sort as, in my vain conceit, I fancied applied to me. Hereupon, my love was more hopeful, and I looked for a better issue.”
“I remember the time well,” observed Hildebrand.
“I held my hope good,” resumed Inez, “till I saw the fair Evaline, and even then gave it not up directly. Yet thou mayst remember, on consideration, that, one fair afternoon, I came on you by surprise, and beheld what convinced me that thou lovedst her.”