When the morning dawned it found her quite undecided—lamenting her unfortunate fate one instant, and declaring that she could never give up her lover the next. She tore off her clothes and took a cold bath, and re-robed herself, but she was looking utterly ill and exhausted when Pennell burst in upon her at eleven o’clock.
“Well, darling,” he exclaimed, “and have you made up your mind by this time? Which death am I to die?—suffocated in your dear embrace, or left to perish of cold and hunger outside?”
“O! Tony,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms, “I don’t know what to say! I have not closed my eyes all night, trying to decide what will be for the best. And I am as far off as ever—only I can never, never consent to do anything that shall work you harm!”
“Then I shall decide for you,” exclaimed her lover, “and that is that you make me and yourself happy, and forget all the rubbish these people have been telling you! Depend upon it, whatever they may have said was for their own gratification, and not yours, and that they would be quick enough to accept the lot that lies before you, were it in their power!”
“I have been so lonely and friendless all my life,” said Harriet, sobbing in his arms, “and I have longed for love and sympathy so much, and now that they have come to me, it is hard, Oh! so hard, to have to give them up.”
“So hard, Hally, for me, remember, as well as yourself, that we will not make the attempt. Now, I want you to place yourself in my hands, and start for Paris to-night!”
“To-night?” she cried, lifting such a flushed, startled, happy face from his breast, that he had no alternative but to kiss it again.
“Yes! to-night! What did I tell you yesterday—that I should come with the ring and the license in my pocket! I am as good as my word, and better—for I have given notice to the registrar of marriages in my district, that he is to be ready for us at twelve o’clock to-day. Am I not a good manager?”
“Tony! Tony! but I have not made up my mind!”
“I have made it up for you, and I will take no refusal! I have calculated it all to a nicety! Married at twelve—back here at one for lunch—a couple of hours to pack up, and off by the four o’clock train for Dover—sleep at the Castle Warden, and cross to-morrow to Paris! How will that do, Mrs. Pennell, eh?”