An expression of intense anxiety contracted the features of his usually so impassive face; and he added with great earnestness,—
“Miss Henrietta, I am an honorable man; I love you. Will you be my wife?”
By a stroke of instinctive genius, he had found the only argument, perhaps, that might have procured credit for his sincerity.
But what did that matter to Henrietta? She began, saying,—
“Believe me, sir. I fully appreciate the honor you do me; but I am no longer free”—
“I beseech you”—
“Freely, and among all men, I have chosen M. Daniel Champcey. My life is in his hands.”
He tottered as if he had received a heavy blow, and stammered with a half-extinct voice,—
“Will you not leave me a glimpse of hope?”
“I would do wrong if I did so, sir, and I have never yet deceived any one.”