“No, not now. I am so much more ashamed of my folly than a sufferer from it that I could forgive the sprain if I could the silly notion that caused it. 'Twas an unlucky fancy, to say the least of it.”
Again there was a pause, and although they walked but slowly, they were fast approaching the little gate that opened into the flower-garden. Forester was silent. “Was it from this cause, or by some secret freemasonry of the female heart that she suspected what was passing in his mind, and exerted herself to move on more rapidly?
“Take time, Miss Darcy; not so fast; if not for your sake, for mine at least.”
The last few words were scarcely above a whisper, but every one of them reached her to whom they were addressed; whether affecting not to hear them, or preferring to mistake their meaning, Helen made no answer.
“I said for my sake,” resumed he, with a courage that demanded all his energy, “because on these few moments the whole fortune of my future life is placed. I love you.”
“Nay, Captain Forester,” said she, smiling, “this is not quite fair; I failed in my attempt to terrify you, and have paid the penalty: let there not be a further one of my listening to what I should not hear.”
“And why not hear it, Helen? Is the devotion of one even humble as I am, a thing to offend? Is it the less sincere that I feel how much you are above me in every way? Will not my very presumption prove how fervent is the passion that has made me forget all save itself,—all save you?”
Truth has its own accents, however weak the words it syllables. Helen laughed not now, but walked on with quicker steps; while the youth, the barrier once passed, poured forth with heartfelt eloquence his tale of love, recalling to her mind by many a slight, unnoticed trait, his long-pledged devotion; how he had watched and worshipped her, seeking to win favor in her eyes, and seem not all unworthy of her heart.
“It is true,” said he, “I cannot, dare not, ask in return for an affection which should repay my own; but let me hope that what I now speak, the devotion I pledge, is no rejected offering; that although you care not for me, you will not crush forever one who lives but in your smile, that you will give me time to show myself more worthy of the prize I strive for. There is no trial I would not dare—”
“I must interrupt you, Captain Forester,” said Helen, with a voice that all her efforts had not rendered quite steady; “it would be an ungenerous requital for the sentiments you say you feel—”