The flush deepened on the cheeks of Anna and on the brow of Richard, and both cast down their eyes, but neither opened their lips.
“And,” proceeded the veteran hero, “I should blush for the daughter of my house who should prove a coquette, as I should blush for the son who should prove a coward. My children, I hope I have said enough. Be brave as all the men of our line, and pure as all its women.”
“Richard,” said Anna, with eyes flashing through their tears, “Cousin Richard, you must bid me farewell here, now, and forever.”
He took the hand she extended to him, and holding it within his own, turned to his uncle and said:
“Sir, you have said enough, and so has my cousin. What it costs me to leave her, only heaven knows. But you have made an appeal that cannot be resisted, and I bow before it. Farewell, sir! And Anna, my cousin, good-bye! Good-bye! God bless you.”
And after wringing Anna’s hand, he dropped it, bowed to his uncle, and hastened away to conceal the tears that rushed to his eyes.
Anna threw herself down upon the sofa, buried her head in its pillows, and sobbed convulsively.
The old man, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his silver-haired head bowed upon his bosom, walked slowly up and down the floor. At length, he came to his sobbing daughter, and laying his hand tenderly upon her head, said:
“I am sorry, Anna. I am sorry, my child. I would I could bear all pain in your stead. But, Anna, I cannot bear this pang for you. And you know that faith must be kept, though hearts be grieved—aye, or——”
Before he could finish his sentence, the door was opened, and Mr. Lyon was announced.