“You insist upon sending me off in utter despair?” he asked her. “Ah, I have hardly courage enough for myself!”
She interrupted him with a nervous laugh, and said in bitter sarcasm,—
“It would be courage to stay, to despise public opinion.”
And, as any thing appeared to her preferable to such a separation, she added,—
“Listen! If you will stay, I will yield. Let us go together to my father, and I will tell him that I have overcome my aversion to Miss Brandon. I will ask him to present me to her; I will humble myself before her.”
“That is impossible, Henrietta.”
She bent towards him, joining her hands; and in a suppliant voice she repeated,—
“Stay, I beseech you, in the name of our happiness! If you have ever loved me, if you love me now, stay!”
Daniel had foreseen this heartrending scene; but he had vowed, that, if his heart should break, he would have the fortitude to resist Henrietta’s prayers and tears.
“If I were weak enough to give way now, Henrietta,” he said, “you would despise me before the month is over; and I, desperate at having to drag out a life of disgrace, would blow out my brains with a curse on you.”