“Jane!” said he, as he entered the room and advanced towards her. She started astonished—almost affrighted. That one word had come upon her like a thunder-clap. It had awakened her from a reverie or a dream—suddenly snatched her, as it were, from a world of her own sad imagination back to the still sadder world of nature about her.
“Ah!” she exclaimed, “who is it?”
“Only I,” replied Roger. “Dry your eyes directly, there's a good girl. I have something to tell you that I hope will make you glad. I told you before that you should have him, after all.”
“Oh—” cried Jane clasping her hands, “has my father——”
“No, no; not that,” rejoined her brother; “but something that will do quite as well. Only you must speak low and let nobody hear, or else we shall spoil the whole business. Colin and I have settled it altogether between us. You must do it, you know, for your own sake as well as his, and do not hesitate a moment about it. I'll tell you plainly what it is,—you must give your consent for Colin to run away with you.”
Jane shook her head.
“You must,” repeated Roger; “there is no other mode of managing it: I will go with you, and we will all three fly down to Mr. Woodruff's house, where we will have a parson to marry you directly, so as to make the matter safe; and then father and mother, and everybody else may make the best of the matter they can!”
“Do not play with me,” said Jane; “I cannot indeed bear it now!”
“I never was more in earnest in my life!” exclaimed Roger, emphatically; “I tell you it is all settled, and you must do it, whether you like it or not. I won't see your happiness sacrificed for the want of a little spirit on your part when it is so much required. Look here—”
And Roger drew forth a letter which Colin had hastily indited before taking his leave, and confided to him to deliver to his sister at the earliest opportunity.