“Yes, if you wish it,—Annesley.” There was a pause before she spoke the last word; and when she did utter it, her accent faltered slightly, and a faint blush tinged her cheek.
As for Beecher, his heart swelled high and proudly; he felt at that moment a strange warm glow within him that counterfeited courage; for an instant he thought he would have liked something perilous to confront,—something in encountering which he might stand forth before Lizzy as a Paladin. Was it that some mysterious voice within him whispered, “She loves you; her heart is yours”? and, oh, if so, what a glorious sentiment must there be in that passion, if love can move a nature like this, and mould it to one great or generous ambition!
“Lizzy, I want to talk to you seriously,” said he, drawing her arm within his own. “I have long wanted to tell you something; and if you can hear it without displeasure, I swear to you I 'd not change with Lackington to-morrow! Not that it's such good fun being a younger son,—few men know that better than myself; still, I repeat, that if you only say 'yes' to me, I pledge you my oath I 'd rather hear it than be sure I was to win the Oaks,—ay, by Heaven! Oaks and Derby, too! You know now what I mean, dearest Lizzy, and do not, I beseech you, keep me longer in suspense.”
She made no answer; her cheek became very pale, and a convulsive shudder passed over her; but she was calm and unmoved the next instant.
“If you love another, Lizzy,” said he, and his lips trembled violently, “say so frankly. It's only like all my other luck in life, though nothing was ever as heavy as this.”
There was an honesty, a sincerity in the tone, of these words that seemed to touch her; for she stole a side look at his face, and the expression of her glance was of kindly pity.
“Is it true, then, that you do love another, Lizzy?” repeated he, with even deeper emotion.
“No!” said she, with a slow utterance.
“Will you not tell me, dearest Lizzy, if—if—I am to have any hope? I know well enough that you need n't take a poor beggar of a younger son. I know where a girl of your beauty may choose. Far better than you do I know that you might have title, rank, fortune; and as for me, all I have is a miserable annuity Lackington allows me, just enough to starve on,—not that I mean to go on, however, as I have been doing; no, no, by Jove! I 'm round the corner now, and I intend to make play, and 'take up my running.' Your father and I understand what we're about.”
What a look was that Lizzy gave him! What a piercing significance must the glance have had that sent the blood so suddenly to his face and forehead, and made him falter, and then stop.