‘Lady Ilfracombe is very good to me, and deserves all the respect and esteem that I can show her’ (he dared not speak of his love for Nora to the poor wreck who stood so patiently hanging on his words), ‘and when she heard that you were drowned, Nell, she was almost as sorry as myself—’
‘Never mind that,’ interposed Nell, ‘I don’t want to hear about it.’
‘But, of course, the past must be past now. It cannot come over again. But you must let me provide for your future, Nell. I will not have—it is impossible that you, who have been so near to me, should either work for your living or live without the comforts to which you have been accustomed. It was very naughty of you to refuse the settlement I wished to make upon you—more, it was unkind to me, and when I heard what you had said and done, I was very unhappy.’
‘It was no use, Vernie. I could not take it,’ said Nell.
‘But you will accept it now, darling, won’t you? if only to prove you have forgiven me all the wrong I have done you, and to make me happy too—to wipe out the bitter remorse I have felt—eh, Nell?’
She shook her head.
‘I couldn’t. Don’t ask me. Vernie, my people know nothing of all this—of what you and I were to one another. They think I was just in service in your house, and nothing more. You wouldn’t shame me before them, would you? How could I account for your giving me an allowance? They would guess the truth at once. Besides, I don’t want it. I have everything that I can desire, except your love. And now I have seen you, and know you love me still, I am quite happy, and want nothing more. Oh, God bless you for your kindness to me. Say you love me best of all the world, and the other woman may have your title and your money.’
He could not say what she asked him to do, but he bent down his head again and murmured in her ear,—
‘I have told you so, a dozen times. Do you suppose that a few months can make such a difference to a man as that? I could wish things had been otherwise for us, my poor Nell. I wish I had had the courage to marry you years ago. I should have been a happier man than I am ever likely to be now, with the remembrance of your disappointment haunting me like an evil spirit.’
‘No, no, it must not haunt you. It is gone,’ she exclaimed with womanly unselfishness. ‘I shall never fret again now I have seen you once more and heard you speak. Kiss me, my Vernie—again—again! Ah, that is sweet. How many, many weary months it is—more than a year—since I have felt your dear lips on my own. It is like a draught of new wine. It has made a strong woman of me.’