“Endymion was such a charming companion,” said Myra.
“But he has left us,” said Nigel; “and you are alone.”
“I am alone,” said Myra; “but I am used to solitude, and I can think of him.”
“Would I were Endymion,” said Nigel, “to be thought of by you!”
Myra looked at him with something of a stare; but he continued—
“All seasons would be to me fascination, were I only by your side. Yes; I can no longer repress the irresistible confusion of my love. I am here, and I am here only, because I love you. I quitted Oxford and all its pride that I might have the occasional delight of being your companion. I was not presumptuous in my thoughts, and believed that would content me; but I can no longer resist the consummate spell, and I offer you my heart and my life.”
“I am amazed; I am a little overwhelmed,” said Myra. “Pardon me, dear Mr. Penruddock—dear Nigel—you speak of things of which I have not thought.”
“Think of them! I implore you to think of them, and now!”
“We are a fallen family,” said Myra, “perhaps a doomed one. We are not people to connect yourself with. You have witnessed some of our sorrows, and soothed them. I shall be ever grateful to you for the past. But I sometimes feel our cup is not yet full, and I have long resolved to bear my cross alone. But, irrespective of all other considerations, I can never leave my father.”
“I have spoken to your father,” said Nigel, “and he approved my suit.”