‘No, no, no!’ murmured Miss Grandison.
‘Katherine, I am unworthy of you; I have deceived you. It is neither for your honour nor your happiness that these ties which our friends anticipate should occur between us. But, Katherine, you are avenged.’
‘Oh! I want no vengeance!’ muttered Miss Grandison, her face pale as marble, her eyes convulsively closed. ‘Cease, cease, Ferdinand; this conversation is madness; you will be ill again.’
‘No, Katherine, I am calm. Fear not for me. There is much to tell; it must be told, if only that you should not believe that I was a systematic villain, or that my feelings were engaged to another when I breathed to you those vows.’
‘Oh! anything but that; speak of anything but that!’
Ferdinand took her hand.
‘Katherine, listen to me. I honour you, my gentle cousin, I admire, I esteem you; I could die content if I could but see you happy. With your charms and virtues I thought that we might be happy. My intentions were as sincere as my belief in our future felicity. Oh! no, dear Katherine, I could not trifle with so pure and gentle a bosom.’
‘Have I accused you, Ferdinand?’
‘But you will when you know all.’
‘I do know all,’ said Miss Grandison, in a hollow voice.