They stood for some time in perfect silence; they had wandered down to the very edge of the lake. The water rippled in the moonlight, and while Hugh Fernely thought, Beatrice looked into the clear depths. How near she was to her triumph! A few minutes more and he would turn to her and tell her she was free. His face was growing calm and gentle. She would dismiss him with grateful thanks; she would hasten home. How calm would be that night's sleep! When she saw Lord Airlie in the morning, all her sorrow and shame would have passed by. Her heart beat high as she thought of this.
"I think it must be so," said Hugh Fernely, at last; "I think I must give you up, Beatrice. I could not bear to make you miserable. Look up, my darling; let me see your face once more before I say goodbye."
She stood before him, and the thick dark shawl fell from her shoulders upon the grass; she did not miss it in the blinding joy that had fallen upon her. Hugh Fernely's gaze lingered upon the peerless features.
"I can give you up," he said, gently; "for your own happiness, but not to another, Beatrice. Tell me that you have not learned to love another since I left you."
She made no reply—not to have saved her life a thousand times would she have denied her love for Lord Airlie. His kiss was still warm on her lips—those same lips should never deny him.
"You do not speak," he added, gloomily. "By Heaven, Beatrice, if I thought you had learned to love another man—if I thought you wanted to be free from me to marry another—I should go mad mad with jealous rage! Is it so? Answer me."
She saw a lurid light in his eyes, and shrank from him. He tightened his grasp upon her arm.
"Answer me!" he cried, hoarsely. "I will know."
Not far from her slept the lover who would have shielded her with his strong arm—the lover to whom every hair upon her dear head was more precious than gold or jewels. Not far from her slept the kind, loving father, who was prouder and fonder of her than of any one on earth. Gaspar Laurence, who would have died for her, lay at that moment not far away, awake and thinking of her. Yet in the hour of her deadly peril, when she stood on the shore of the deep lake, in the fierce grasp of a half-maddened man, there was no one near to help her or raise a hand in her defense. But she was no coward, and all the high spirit of her race rose within her.
"Loosen your grasp, Hugh," she said, calmly; "you pain me."