“Never!” he exclaimed. “She is a Delavie; and besides, no other ever shall be my wife.”
“Hush, hush!” Betty had been saying before the words were out of his “You are but a silly boy, begging your Honour’s pardon, though you speak, I know, with all your heart. What would your Lady mother say or do to my poor little sister if she heard you?”
“She could but send her home, and then flood and fire could not hold me from her.”
“I wish that were the worst she could do. No, Sir Amyas Belamour, if you have any kindness for the poor helpless girl under your mother’s roof, you will make no advance to excite alarm or anger against her. Remember it is she who will be the sufferer and not yourself. The woman, however guiltless, is sure to fall under suspicion and bear the whole penalty. And oh! what would become of her, defenceless, simple, unprotected as she is?”
“Yet you sent her!” said he.
“Yes,” said Betty, sadly, “because there was no other choice between breaking with my Lady altogether.”
He made an ejaculation under his breath, half sad, half violent, and exclaimed, “Would that I were of age, or my father were returned.”
“But now you know all, you will leave my child in peace,” said Betty.
“What, you would give me no hope!”
“Only such as you yourself have held out,” said Betty. “When you are your own master, if you keep in the same mind till then, and remain truly worthy, I cannot tell what my father would answer.”