“I am about to give Miss Kavanagh the highest proof of confidence that one being can give another. I am about to take her for my life’s bosom friend. We shall be married in five days.”
Had a bullet sped through her heart, she could not have given a more agonized bound. Then she struck both hands to her temples, started hastily half across the floor, paused again as if distracted, and suddenly cried out—
“You shall not do it! By my soul, you shall not do it! You never, never shall become the dupe of that woman! I have entered the lists with her. I mean, that to save you, I have done so, and before I leave them, I will prove her false and treacherous. God show the right!”
Major Clifton gazed upon her in wonder. The strong emotion that she had exhibited, imposed upon him, for there was no doubting its reality; and far from suspecting its cause, an unhallowed passion for himself, he ascribed it solely to her strong conviction of Catherine’s unworthiness, and to her disinterested regard for his own welfare. And when she came and threw herself upon the sofa beside him, and besought, with all the eloquence that passion and the demon could lend her, that he would pause and not hurry on to his ruin, his confidence in Catherine’s integrity was shaken to the foundation. And when at the end of an hour he rode home, he reached Hardbargain as miserable as the doubt of one beloved can make a man. If love has the Divine power of transfiguring its object until faults are excellencies, suspicion possesses the demoniac faculty of deforming its victim until virtues seem vices, and under its influence the highest and best gifts of the maiden, her intellect, virtues, and graces were turned against her; her talent seemed intriguing art; her meekness and humility became meanness and sycophancy; her piety, hypocrisy; and her girlish shyness the sinister reserve of conscious guilt.
It was well that on his return he met Catherine only in his mother’s presence, where deep regard for the lady constrained him into something like forbearance; though even then his moody manner excited some uneasiness in the bosoms of the two ladies. When Catherine left the room to order dinner, the conversation that ensued tended to strengthen his newly revived suspicions. Mrs. Clifton told him, that with his consent she would like to leave the farm of Hardbargain to Catherine, as a testimony of her esteem and affection.
“And for a more practical reason, too,” she said, “for you know, my dear Archer, that the estate of White Cliffs being entailed—if you should die before her, and without male children—Catherine and her daughters, if she should have any, would be left homeless. But if I leave her this farm of Hardbargain, it can make no difference to you during your life, and if Catherine happen to survive you, it will secure her a home. What do you think of this plan, Archer? You look grave and troubled. If you have the slightest objection, I will not carry it out, of course.”
“Surely I have not the least right to object, my dear mother; your property you have made by your own labor, and improved by your own admirable management.”
“You have the right of nature, my dear Archer; and I see by your gravity, that you dislike this arrangement; therefore it shall not be made.”
“You mistake my thoughtfulness, dear madam. If I am somewhat grave, it is upon another subject. Believe me, I have not the slightest fault to find with this plan; neither does it take me by surprise, I have been prepared for it months since. Mrs. Georgia Clifton informed me that such was your intention.”
“Is it possible? How could Georgia have known anything about it? But I suppose she has heard me drop words to that effect. May I hope then, that this purpose meets your approbation, Archer?”