“But, dearest Helen, remember that I am no longer dependent on my mother's will,—remember that I stand in a position and a rank which only needs you to share with me to make it all that my loftiest ambition ever coveted.”
“These are, forgive me if I tell you, very selfish reasonings, my Lord. They may apply to you; they hardly address themselves to my position. The pride which could not stoop to ally itself with our house in our days of prosperity, should not assuredly be wounded by suing us in our humbler fortunes.”
“Your thoughts dwell on Lady Netherby, Miss Darcy,” said Forester, irritably; “she is scarcely the person most to be considered here.”
“Enough for me, if I think so,” said Helen, haughtily. “The lady your Lordship's condescension would place in the position of a mother should at least be able to regard me with other feelings than those of compassionate endurance. In a word, sir, it cannot be. To discuss the topic longer is but to distress us both. Leave me to my gratitude to you, which is unbounded. Let me dwell upon the many traits of noble heroism I can think of in your character with enthusiasm, ay, and with pride,—pride that one so high and so gifted should have ever thought of one so little worthy of him. But do not weaken my principle by hoping that my affection can be won at the cost of my self-esteem.”
Forester bowed with a deep, respectful reverence; and when he lifted up his head, the sad expression of his features was that of one who had heard an irrevocable doom pronounced upon his dearest, most cherished hopes. Lady Eleanor at the same moment came forward from the door of the cottage, so that he had barely time to utter a hasty good-bye ere she joined her daughter.
“Your father wishes to see Lord Wallincourt, Helen. Has he gone?” But before Helen could reply the Knight came up.
“I hope you have not forgotten to ask him to dinner, Eleanor?” said he. “We did so yesterday, and he never made his appearance the whole evening.”
“Helen, did you?” But Helen was gone while they were speaking; so that Darcy, to repair the omission, hastened after his young friend with all the speed he could command.
“Have I found you?” cried Darcy, as, turning an angle of the rocky shore, he came behind Forester, who, with folded arms and bent-down head, stood like one sorrow-struck. “I just discovered that neither my wife nor my daughter had asked you to stop to dinner; and as you are punctilious, fully as much as they are forgetful, there was nothing for it but to run after you.”
“You are too kind, my dear Knight,—but not to-day; I'm poorly,—a headache.”