"No, Edward, never that I know of," she replied: "why do you ask?"
"Did you ever hear my aunt speak of her?" continued De Vaux, without replying to her question.
"Let me think," said Marian. "I believe I have: but no, I cannot remember that I ever did, now I reflect upon it: no, I never did."
"Nor my father either?" asked De Vaux.
"No, never; certainly never," answered Marian.
"Well, then--" said De Vaux, and he paused abruptly, fixing his eyes upon her face. Instantly a colour of the deepest crimson rushed up over the whole countenance of Marian de Vaux, dying cheek, and neck, and forehead with the blush of generous shame--the shame that every pure, virtuous, inexperienced woman feels when the idea of vice in her own sex is suddenly brought before her.
Edward de Vaux turned deadly pale, as he both perceived that Marian had now caught his meaning, and comprehended most painfully the feelings in which that bright blush arose. The shame that Marian felt for the degradation of her sex touched the most agonized spot in De Vaux's heart. All that hatred for vice, and scorn for the vicious, and the pity which comes near contempt, could produce in a woman's bosom, seemed to De Vaux expressed by that blush, and pointed, more or less directly, towards himself; and, as I have said, he turned very pale.
The deep emotion that he felt overpowered him for an instant; but then he made a great exertion, and, rising from the sofa, "Marian," he said, "I have now told you all, even to my innermost thoughts; and I have but one word to add, my dear, dear cousin. Nearly three years ago, you assured me of your love, and promised me your hand; and every member of your family willingly consented to our ultimate union; but then I was the Honourable Edward de Vaux, the heir to one of the most ancient peerages in England, and to twenty thousand per annum. Things have now changed; and, if the assertions in this letter, and my own suspicions be correct, I am now a nameless, illegitimate beggar, without a right to any thing on earth but my sword and my reputation--with shame upon my mother's head--with nothing to claim from my father, and without even a name that I can offer you. Under these circumstances, though I shall love you to the last day of my life, and think of you through every moment in the whole course of time, I give you back your promise, I free you from all engagement, and leave you totally untied to a connection from which your friends will naturally be glad enough to separate you."
He spoke calmly, slowly, and distinctly; but the deadly paleness of his countenance showed how deeply he was moved at heart; and Marian gazed upon him, with her long dark eyelashes raised high, her beautiful eyes full upon his face, and her lip slightly trembling while he went on. As soon as he had ceased, she rose from the sofa, and, with agitation and ardour, all unlike her usual calmness, cast herself at once upon his bosom, with her arms circling his neck, her lips pressed upon his cheek, and her tears falling rapidly upon him.--"Edward, Edward!" she cried, "I am yours--all yours! Could you--could you do such injustice to your own Marian? You have given me back my promise, and I here give it you again--so that, whatever comes, I may never hear from any one a single word against our union. Nay, nay, let me speak--it is seldom that I am vehement; but I must speak now--you have my promise, most solemnly, most strictly; and I consider myself as much bound to you as if I were your wife. Not only shall no other person upon earth ever have my hand, but, whatever happens, and whoever opposes it, you shall have it, when and where you choose to ask it."
Need I say how tenderly he pressed her to his heart? Need I say how ardently, how sincerely he thanked her? But still there was some slight hesitation in his mind. He almost doubted that she fully appreciated his situation, and he felt that he could not receive such a promise as she had made till she comprehended all. He bade her think, then, of the whole; and conjured her to remember, that it was not alone the loss of name and station, but that, if his anticipations were correct, every thing like wealth, or even competence, would also be lost to him.