"I am waiting for my answer, Margharita!" he said simply.
"You have had the only answer which I can ever give you, Lord Lumley! I answered—'No!'"
Then he did a thing which sounds very absurd, but which did not indeed seem so. He sank on one knee and took possession of my hand. I was on a low chair, and his face now was on a level with mine.
"Margharita, my love," he whispered, "'no' is an answer which I shall never take. Yesterday I went away and left you, to-day I am wiser. Nothing can undo those few minutes on the cliffs, dearest. You love me! Ah! you cannot deny it! Have I not read it in your face, and in your eyes? Take back your 'no,' Margharita. By the memory of those few minutes, you are mine forever! You have not the power or the right to deny yourself to me. You are mine! You belong to me!"
I shrank back. I began to be frightened at his earnestness—at the note of triumph in his voice. How strong and masterful he was. Should I be able to hold out against him? Only my will and the memory of a wasted life against my heart and such pleading as this. It was a hard, unequal battle.
"Margharita, I love you all the more that you are not lightly won!" he continued, drawing me closer to him—almost into his arms. "Listen! I believe that I have some idea as to the reason of your answer. You think, perhaps, that my people might not be willing. You are proud—too proud. Tell me, is this not so?"
"A governess is no fitting wife for you. You should choose one from among the noble women of your country. I——"
He interrupted me. If I had not drawn back quickly he would have stopped my lips with a kiss.
"No one in this world could be as fit as you, for it is you, and you only, whom I love. But listen! I have spoken to my mother. I have told her."
"You have told her what?" I cried.