"I do, indeed, dear Blanche," replied Beauchamp. "But you are smiling at me still; and indeed, indeed--if you could tell all the agony, and long, long days of misery which that rejection caused me, I am sure you would pity the feelings that your words produced."
"I did from the first, Henry--I did from the first!" replied Blanche, earnestly; "but you must believe me, Henry, when I tell you, that I suffered double what you did. Yes, yes!" she added, seeing him shake his head. "Yes, yes, I did, for I was crushing my own heart at the very time I was obliged to crush that of him--of him--Oh, Henry, you do not know what I felt!"
"Obliged!" cried Beauchamp, catching at the word. "Obliged! Did Sir Sidney then object?"
"Oh, no!" answered Blanche. "Nor would have objected. But it shall all be explained, Henry, if you can forgive me, and love me still, notwithstanding all the pain I have made you suffer."
"I have loved you ever, Blanche, with the most unabated affection," replied Beauchamp. "Nay, more, what between affection and what between vanity, I had fancied that there must be some latent cause for conduct that seemed inexplicable. I had endeavoured for some time so to frame my every word and action towards you, that you could not mistake them; and it was only because you permitted those attentions--because they did not seem to displease you"--(Blanche blushed deeply)--"because, in short, you did not repel them, that I dared to hope. I would not, I could not, believe that such a heart and such a mind as that of Blanche Delaware, would suffer me to go on so long unchecked, if she felt that the affection she must have seen, could not be returned."
"Indeed, indeed, I would not!" replied Blanche. "I do not pretend not to have seen what were your feelings towards me--and there is no use now of concealing what were my own," and, for a moment, her eyes again sought the ground. "The fact was, however," she added smiling, "that what happened afterwards was not because you were Mr. Burrel; but because I discovered you were Mr. Beauchamp."
"And was that name then so hateful to you?" asked her lover.
"No, no!" answered Blanche--"but I see I may as well tell you at once; for you will not cease to question me till I do. Do you remember the last day you ever came up to the park? Well, just after your arrival the post came in, and amongst other things were two letters to me--one from Mrs. Darlington--and another which made me run to my own room as soon as I had opened it. It was from your uncle, the late Lord Ashborough. I scarcely like to think of it even now. It told me who you really were, and in terms--oh, so bitter I--hinted that I must know it already, and must be using that knowledge for evil purposes. It then went on to state, that, however determined you might be in the foolish line of conduct you were pursuing, your relations would never forgive our union; and that if it took place, he, Lord Ashborough, would not only disown you as his relation, but would leave every acre of land which he could alienate, to the most distant relation he had, sooner than to you. The whole was wound up with the same denunciation against you, in case I ever revealed to you the fact of my having received that letter; and it ended with telling me, that now, knowing these facts, I might still strive to force myself into your family if I would----But I will show you the letter, Henry, and you shall judge for yourself whether I could do otherwise."
"He might indeed have alienated a large part of his property," replied Beauchamp; "but there was still more than enough left. And did you think, Blanche, from what you knew of me even then, that I would not have preferred a cottage with you, to ten times the amount he could have taken away without you?"
"Henry Beauchamp in a cottage!" said Blanche smiling. "I am afraid that would have suited Blanche Delaware better. But remember, Henry, that I knew not what he could take from you; and, even if I had known, should I have had any right to accept--to permit such a sacrifice. Oh, no! and if it had broken my heart, I must have acted as I did act. But now, Henry, let us return home--we have walked on long, and papa will certainly think it strange that I have been thus left alone with you at all."