Blanche Delaware wept, but she answered not a word; and Burrel gazed on her for a moment in silence, in a state of agitation which might have well prevented him from judging sanely of what was passing in her mind, even had it been expressed by more unequivocal signs than the bitter, though silent tears, that rolled over her cheeks.
"For God's sake, speak!" he exclaimed at length. "Oh, Blanche! if you did but know the agony you are inflicting on a heart that loves you better than any other earthly thing, you would at least save me the torment of suspense--May I--dare I--hope that you will be mine?"
Blanche Delaware passed her hand across her brow, and brushed back the rich long ringlets, that, as she stooped, had fallen partially over her eyes. She turned towards her lover also, still grasping the edge of the fountain with her left hand for support, and, with something between a gasp and a sob, replied to his question at once--"No, Mr. Burrel! No! You must not hope!--Oh, forgive me!"--she added, seeing the deadly paleness that spread over his countenance. "Forgive me! Forgive me! But for your sake--for your own sake--for both our sakes, it is better said at once--I must not--I cannot"----
The rest died upon her lips. Enough, however, had been spoken to make the rejection decisive; and yet it was spoken in such a tone as to betray deep grief as well as agitation on her own part; and to awaken--not suspicions--but a thousand vague and whirling fancies in Burrel's brain.
"And will not Miss Delaware," he said at length, "at least console me for broken hopes, and the first love of my heart crushed for ever, by assigning some cause for this change in her opinion of one, who is unconscious of having done any thing to offend or pain her?"
Blanche was again silent, and turned away her head, while the sighs came thick and deep, and the tears were evidently falling fast. Burrel paused for a moment, and then added, in a sad but kindly tone--"Or is it, Miss Delaware, that I have imagined a heart free, that was before engaged? Perhaps, long ere I knew you, some more fortunate person may have created an interest which can be inspired but once--perhaps even, circumstances may have prevented you from rendering him as happy as you might otherwise have done--Oh, tell me, is it so? For though all men are selfish, I should find it easy to gratify my selfishness in contributing to your happiness. I have interest--I have power--and if I could render Blanche Delaware happy with one that she loves, it would be the next blessing to possessing her hand myself--Tell me, Miss Delaware, I beseech you, is it as I imagine?"
"Oh! No, no, no! cried Blanche, turning her glowing face towards him. No, upon my word--I never saw the man that I could love but"----
The deepening blush and the fresh burst of tears concluded the sentence as Burrel's heart could have desired; and again laying his hand upon hers, he besought her to tell him what then was the obstacle. But Blanche drew back--not offended, but sad and determined.
"It is in vain, Mr. Burrel!" she said; "and I am bound to tell you so at once. My mind is made up--my resolution is taken. You have my highest esteem, my deepest gratitude, my most sincere regard, but you cannot have"----
She paused at the word love; for no circumstances to the mind of Blanche Delaware could palliate a falsehood, and she felt too bitterly that he did possess her love also. She changed the phrase in the midst, and added, "I can never give you my hand!"