“I am gazing on the beauty of the autumnal woods,” she replied, her cheeks glowing like the scarlet maple leaves.
“I should think such contemplation better fitted one less young and bright and fair,” said Clinton. “Miss Thusa, for instance, in her time-gray home.
“I am sure nothing can be brighter or more glorious than these colors,” said Helen, making a motion to rise. It seemed to her she could see the black eyes of Mittie gleaming at her through the rustling foliage.
“Do not go yet,” said Clinton. “This is such a sweet, quiet hour—and it is the first time I have seen you alone since the morning after your arrival. What have I done that you shun me as an enemy, and refuse me the slightest token of confidence and regard?”
“I am not conscious of showing such great avoidance,” said Helen, more and more embarrassed. “I am so much of a stranger, and it seemed so natural that you should prefer the society of Mittie, I considered my absence a favor to both.”
“Till you came,” he replied, in a low, persuasive accent, “I did find a charm in her society unknown before, but now I feel every thought and feeling and hope turned into a new channel. Even before you came, I felt you were to be my destiny. Stay, Helen, you shall not leave me till I have told you what my single heart is too narrow to contain.”
“Let me go,” cried Helen, struggling to release the hand which he had taken, and springing from her rocky seat. “It is not right to talk to me in this manner, and I will not hear you. It is false to Mittie, and insulting to me.”
“I should be false to Mittie should I pretend to love her now, when my whole heart and soul are yours,” exclaimed the young man, vehemently. “I can no more resist the impulse that draws me to you, than I can stay the beatings of this wildly throbbing heart. Love, Helen, cannot be forced, neither can it be restrained.”
“I know nothing of love,” cried Helen, pressing on her homeward path, with a terror she dared not betray, “nor do I wish to know—but one thing I do know—I feel nothing but dread in your presence. You make me wretched and miserable. I am sure if you have the feelings of a gentleman you will leave me after telling you this.”
“The more you urge me to flee, the more firmly am I rooted to your side. You do not know your own heart, Helen. You are so young and guileless. It is not dread of me, but your sister’s displeasure that makes you tremble with fear. You cannot fear me, Helen—you must, you will, you shall love me.”