“In the name of Heaven, what is this that you are proposing to me?” exclaimed Drusilla, gazing in wonder at Miss Lyon.
“That you shall take my place in this evening’s solemn farce and be fast married to your husband, if you never were before,” said Anna, calmly.
“Impossible, Miss Lyon! He would reject me at first sight, and I!—I should die of mortification!”
“Yes, if he should be permitted to recognize you, he might reject you. But he is not to be favored with a sight of your face until he is irrecoverably bound to you.”
“Even then he would renounce me—renounce me with maledictions.”
“Well, let him! I should thank him for freeing me, if I were you. Why should you care, so that his great wrong to you and to his child is righted—so that your good name is redeemed from unmerited reproach, and your innocent child from undeserved shame? After you are fast married—let him go, if he will, say I!”
“Oh, Miss Lyon! Miss Lyon! I never deceived any one in all my life! Shall I begin by deceiving my dear Alick?” she said, wringing her poor little hands again.
“Drusilla, this will be no deception, but a pious fraud—if ever there was such a thing in the world!”
“Oh, Miss Lyon, you mean well; but I could not practise this ‘pious fraud’ upon any one, least of all upon my dear Alick! I could not, Miss Lyon, I could not!” fervently exclaimed the loyal young creature, tightly clasping her hands.
“Then you accept the dishonor to which he has doomed you, rather than clear your fame in the manner I propose?” said Anna, curling her lovely lip.