‘Not worthy? What do you mean? You, who are as far above me as the stars in heaven. It is I who have no right to aspire to be your husband—a rough, country clod like me, only, only—I would love you with the best, Nell, if I could but make you believe it.’
‘I do believe it, Hugh, and I am sorry it should be so, because my love for you is so different from yours. I regard you as a dear friend. I have no other love to give you.’
‘You care for some other man,’ said Hugh, with the quick jealousy of lovers. ‘You are engaged to be married. Oh, why did you not tell me so before? Why have you let me go on seeing you—talking with you and longing for you, without giving me one hint that you had bound yourself to marry another man? It was cruel of you, Nell—very, very cruel. You might have had more mercy on an unfortunate fellow who has loved you all his life.’
Nell shook her head.
‘But I’m not bound to marry another man; I shall never marry,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Then, why are you so hard on me? Tell me the reason, Nell. There must be a reason for your refusal. You owe me so much for the pain you’ve made me suffer.’
‘Oh, how can I tell you? What good would it do you to hear?’ she exclaimed passionately. ‘Cannot you understand that there may be a hundred things in a girl’s life that make her feel indisposed to marry the first man who asks her?’
‘Perhaps so,’ he said mournfully; ‘I know so little of girls or their feelings. But I think you might give me a better reason for your refusal, than that you are determined not to marry.’
‘Can I trust you with the story of my life?’ she asked. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure I can. You are good and faithful, and you would never betray my confidence to father, or mother, or Hetty, or disgrace me in the eyes of the world.’
Hugh Owen grew pale at the idea, but he answered,—