“You are sure you mean what you say?” she said, with a half credulous smile that irritated me, and a slight pressure of her fingers that soothed and made me hopeful. I waited for her to continue, and we both sat for a few moments gazing into the glowing coals on the hearth before us. Suddenly, deep in the fire, where the heat was whitest, a dull red spot appeared, that seemed to rise and fall as if there was breath beneath it. In an instant I was again kneeling on the damp ground, with a white face resting on my arm, and pale lips bubbling blood as they bade me farewell. It was as vivid as vision itself; and after the eyes were closed by the surgeon’s hand, I could still see the pale lips murmuring, “False! False!”
My hands and forehead grew cold as ice, and my heart, in its remorse, beat audibly, “False loving false! False loving false!” My resolve was taken from that moment; I would not be shaken from it by scorn or tears. I dropped her hand and, rising, said:
“Miss Carrover, I did mean all that I said; you know that I have loved you; but forget it. Even if you could love me, which I dare not hope, it must not be—Ramie’s spirit forbids it. Will you pardon what I have said tonight?”
She rose and stood before me, the personification of anger and scorn, her dreamy eyes now flashing, and her beautiful face flushed with her feeling.
“Do you fear that I am going to accept your paltry love, that you hasten to retract it? Not content with insulting me with your cant about what was due the dead, you have attempted a contemptible flirtation. To say that I saw through your pitiful design, would indicate that I paid some attention to your rhodomontade, which I did not; but ‘tis useless to waste further words upon you; I can never sufficiently express my contempt; there! go, sir!” and with a gesture that would have graced Siddons she pointed her jewelled hand to the door.
With a profound bow, I said:
“Thanks, Miss Carrover, for the lesson of to-night. But before I take my leave permit me to remind you that you asked my adv——” but she had swept magnificently from the room.
The next evening, while strolling with Ned on the suburbs of the village, I met Miss Carrover riding in a buggy with Ellerton, who had not yet applied for re-admission to the University, but was staying with a friend. She looked confused as she passed us, and averted her head, while I turned and stared at them till they were out of sight.
“Oh, Ramie, Ramie,” I murmured, as we turned homeward, “better to wed death than the false creature of thy betrothal; better the worm at thy lips than her kiss; better the sod on thy cheek than her Delilah-like caresses.”