And he laughed with mingled sadness and bitterness.
“I was mad, was I not? I ought to have selected her lady’s maid—any one of the maids about the place. But Miss Marlowe! The beautiful creature for whose smile lords and princes, men of fame and note, were willing to contend! Mad! Yes! But all love is madness, so they say, and—well, that is my only excuse. And now, before you send me away with one of those gentle smiles of yours, let me tell you what I have to offer you. Myself—and nothing! I have nothing but my voice to depend upon. I lay it at your feet, knowing well that at a word from you other men would lay their coronets and their gold there.” He laughed again. “Not much to offer, Miss Marlowe; but it is my all, and my life goes with it! And yet, if you stooped to take it—well”—he drew a long breath and his magnificent eyes seemed to glow—“well, I think I could make a good fight of it! The world should hear of Percy Levant, and you should not be ashamed of the man whose hand you had stooped to take. Yes!”—he bent forward with outstretched hands. “With your love to encourage me, with you by my side to make the struggle worth while, I would win a name which at least might be not unworthy of you! Ah, think a moment!” he pleaded, his voice suddenly quivering in its intensity. “Think what your answer means to me! To any of these others it might matter a good deal, I grant, whether you said them ‘yes’ or ‘no;’ but they have so many other things to live for—rank, wealth, place in the world! But I! I have nothing but this wild mad love of mine, this deep love for you which seems part and parcel of my very being! Miss Marlowe—Doris—it is a beggar who pleads to you for the one chance which will lift him from a life which has never yet known happiness to one of hope and perfect joy! Think and—ah, I love you! I love you! Don’t send me away!” and he was on his knees beside her, his face upturned to hers with an expression which a man might wear who is indeed pleading for his life.
Doris looked down at him speechlessly. His passionate avowal, the wonderful music of every word, the handsome face and thrilling eyes affected her strangely; but she was more moved by the confession of his lowliness and loneliness than by aught else. She, too, was she not lowly enough and lonely enough, also? This, at least, made a bond between them.
She did not love him, but—she pitied him; and pity, with such a girl as Doris, is indeed, near akin to love.
What should she say to him? The thought of having to tell him that there was no hope for him smote her with a keen sense of pain! She dreaded seeing his face as she dealt the blow. She herself had loved, you see, and could sympathize with him. Heaven! how hard it was that she should have to rob the friendless, solitary man of his one chance of happiness! She faltered and hesitated; and a light of hope—wild, almost maddening hope—burned in his eyes.
“Doris!” he breathed; “Doris!”
“Hush! hush!” she said. “Ah! why have you told me this? Why didn’t you go without telling me?”
“Forgive me!” he answered. “I was going. If you had not come back in the moment of my struggle, you would not have seen me again! And now I have told you! You hesitate!”
“I hesitate because——” she paused, and looked down at him with sweet, troubled gravity and tenderness, the tenderness of a woman who is about to deal a man who loves her the deadliest blow he can receive at her hands. “Because I cannot love you. I”—her voice broke, but she struggled with it and went on—“I care nothing for rank or wealth; they are nothing to me. I should say what I have said if you were a prince. I shall never marry any one, Mr. Levant!” She turned her head aside, but he saw the tears fill her eyes. “I am sorry, sorry, sorry!” she murmured. “There is no one I like better. I did not know, I never guessed that you wished—that you wished me to be your wife; but I knew that you were my friend, and I was proud that it should be so.”
“Your friend!” he breathed. “Only friend! Ah, Doris! many and many a night I have wandered here, watching the light in your window, and wondering whether by some miracle I should win you! Your friend! Well, I played my part well—I hid my heart’s secret while it was possible.”