In truth—now he knew that his hand was free from legal fetters to Drusilla, he felt that his heart was more bound to her by affection than he had lately believed. And now his hated rival was out of his way, he found that he was not half so much in love with his beautiful cousin as he had imagined.
And so he really had no more desire to hurry the wedding than had Anna herself.
He wanted more time to break with her whom he had so long taken for his wife. And as he walked up and down the floor, he was thinking most of her.
“Poor little Drusa,” he thought. “Good little Drusa, from this hour she must be to me, only as a dear little sister. But our parting must not he abrupt. Such a shock would be her death-blow, poor child! Little by little I must leave her. This trip to the old hall will be a good start. She need not know where or why I go. I can tell her that this business connected with my father’s will, takes me into Virginia for a while—and this will be true, so far as it goes. After a few weeks I will return to her, but only as a brother, and will stay with her but a few days. And then the second absence shall be longer than the first, and the second return to her, shorter. And so, gently, most gently will I loose the tie that binds her to me, so that when the final parting comes, she shall scarcely feel it.”
So, as falsely as wickedly, he reasoned. For it would have been more merciful to have broken with her at once than to leave her by degrees. Much kinder would be the quick, sharp death-blow that should end her woe instantly, than the slow, cruel torture that would as surely if not as swiftly destroy her life.
Something of this truth seemed to strike his mind. He groaned slightly. Then he began to comfort his conscience.
“I will provide for her,” he said to himself. “I will buy that little estate for her. She can live there as a young widow. She can——Oh, great Heaven, what a villain I am growing to be! But I cannot help it. I cannot remarry Drusilla because I am bound to Anna, and have been bound to her for many years. So I cannot but do as I do. I wonder if murderers can help killing, or thieves stealing? Or if really I can help being the wretch I am?” And as he mentally asked himself this question his face grew so dark with pain and remorse, that Anna, who had been watching him and who quite mistook his mood, laughed and said:
“Why, Alick, one would really think, to see you, that you take this matter to heart.”
“I take the matter to heart much more than you believe, Anna,” he answered, speaking, as had been his frequent manner of late, true in the letter and false in the spirit of his reply. Then lest his supposed disappointment should cause her to relent and to fix an earlier day for their marriage than would quite be convenient for him, he hastened to add: “But let it be as you will, fair cousin. I will wait with what patience I may until November.”
Anna pouted, for although she was in no haste to marry she felt affronted that Alick should yield the point so readily.