“Never! never! you know not what you say or seek!” she exclaimed, snatching her hand away and shuddering through every nerve.
“Miss De Lancie, your words and manner are inexplicable, are alarming! Tell me, for the love of Heaven, Marguerite, does any insurmountable obstacle stand in the way of our union?”
“Obstacle!” repeated Miss De Lancie, starting violently, and gazing with wild, dilated eyes upon the questioner, while every vestige of color fled from her face.
“Yes, that was the word I used, dearest Marguerite! Oh, if there be——”
“What obstacle should exist, except my own will? A very sufficient one, I should say,” interrupted Marguerite, struggling hard for self-control.
“Say your decision against your will.”
“What right have you to think so, sir?”
“Look in your own heart and read my right, Marguerite.”
“I never look into that abyss!”
“Marguerite, you fill me with a terrible anxiety. Marguerite, for seven years you have reigned a queen over society; your hand has been sought by the most distinguished men of the country; you are as full of tenderness and enthusiasm as a harp is of music; it seems incredible that you have never married or betrothed yourself, or even loved, or fancied that you loved! Tell me, Marguerite, in the name of Heaven, tell me, have any of these events occurred to you?” He waited for an answer.