“Marry her! Why—why should not I?”
An answer came quickly enough in the remembrance of the pale dark face of Laura Treherne, the girl to whom he was pledged.
But with a gesture of impatience he swept the obtrusive remembrance aside.
“Why not?” he muttered. “Then, at one stroke, I should secure myself. By Heaven—I will! I will!”
So elated was he by the thought that he stopped and leaned against a tree and took off his hat, allowing the cool breezes to play upon his white forehead.
“Beautiful, and the real heiress of Hurst Leigh,” he muttered. “Why should I not? By one stroke I should make myself secure, and set that cursed will at defiance, let it be where it may! I will! I will!” he repeated, setting his teeth; then, as he put on his hat, he smiled pitifully and murmured:
“Poor Laura, poor Laura!”
CHAPTER XIV.
Una saw her last of Warden Forest through a mist of tears; while a tree remained in sight her face was turned toward it, and in silence she bade farewell to the leafy world in which her life had passed with so much uneventfulness—in silence listened to the soughing of the breeze that seemed to voice her a sad good-bye.