"But what is it?" I exclaimed. "There may be a thousand means of remedy left."
"None, none!" she answered. "It is connected with the irrevocable past. It never can be removed, changed, or modified. I might, it is true, become your wife; but I should find wretchedness instead of happiness; remorse instead of love; my misery would make you miserable; and in less than six months after I gave you my hand, the never-ceasing reproaches of my own conscience would bring Bessy Davenport to the grave."
"But what is it?" I cried. "For Heaven's sake, explain!"
"Do not ask me, Richard--do not ask me," she said; "at least not now. Have pity upon me, have compassion! I dare not dwell upon it. The truth came upon me with a crushing weight--the truth, which I never knew till two nights ago, fell upon my heart as if a mountain had been cast upon it, and it has left me very weak. Some time hence, when we are both calmer--when we can look back upon this time as people who have been asleep look back upon sweet dreams that have faded away for ever--when the dreadful reality will serve but to strengthen and to tranquillize, though it may chill us--then I will write to you, Richard. Perhaps then you may be the happy husband of another, and can look upon Bessy Davenport as a sister, and compassionate the sorrows she has endured; then I will write to you, and tell you all." Grief and disappointment are the most selfish things upon earth--often the most unjust, the most unreasoning. No language can tell the anguish I had that moment endured, the irritating, fiery, maddening feeling of disappointment. It is my only excuse for the cruelty and unkindness of my next words. There was a struggle even to prevent myself from bursting forth in vehement and angry reproach; but the habit of self-restraint in some degree conquered, and my answer was apparently calm and cold, though all beneath was fiery excitement.
"Bessy," I said, bitterly, "may you be happy! Me you have rendered miserable for ever. I have loved you with the truth, and tenderness, and passion, and force of a first and only love; not as a boy loves, but as a man, once and for ever. And you talk to me as being the happy husband of another! Bessy, Bessy, you have never loved, or such a wild, impossible vision could never cross your brain!" She started on her feet like a fawn frightened from her ferny bed, and gazed at me with a look of agony I shall never forget.
"Oh, how have I deserved this?" she exclaimed. But then recovering herself, she took my hand in one of hers, and raising the other towards heaven, she said, in a low and earnest voice,--"May God above judge my heart, Richard; may He cease to bless, protect, and comfort me; may He never help me at the hour of need, support me in the hour of sorrow, save me in the hour of danger--if I have not loved you as well as woman ever loved man! What is it makes me miserable now--has broken my heart, crushed my spirit, enfeebled my body? Loved you!--Oh, God, how I have loved you!" And casting herself on my bosom, she pressed her lips again and again upon my cheek.
"Bessy, I am wrong, I am wrong," I said; "forgive me, dearest Bessy. Only confide in me--only put full trust and reliance upon me--let me not be sent blindfold to the sacrifice of every hope of happiness in life. Talk not to me of ever marrying another. I have never loved but once, and never can----"
"Hear me, Richard," interrupted she, more calmly and gently, putting back the arm I had cast around her. "You yourself shall be the arbiter of our destiny. You yourself shall condemn me, if you will, to death--to a death of remorse and self-reproach. I will be your wife, if you command me; but it must be some time hence. When we are both calmer, when we can both look with reasonable eyes upon our relative position to each other; when I can venture to let my mind rest upon the past, of which you are now as ignorant as I was a few days ago; when you can give due weight and have consideration to a woman's feelings, I will write to you, and leave you yourself to decide. You shall say to me in reply,--'Bessy, be mine, though death be the consequence;' or, 'Bessy, you are right. We must not attempt to pass the barrier which God has placed between us.' But mark me, Richard, and remember, should you view the matter as I do, and see that our marriage is impossible, Bessy Davenport will be to you as another sister. Never, never, so help me God, shall my hand be given to any other! I have loved you, when I thought I could never love any man; and for you I was ready to cast away every prejudice, every resolution of my life. My love is yours for ever; and I should as soon think of breaking a vow as of allowing one thought of another to cross my mind." A slight flush covered her face as she spoke; but strong emotions often bring their own calm with them, and she went on in a manner much more tranquil.
"And, Richard," she said, "I have gone perhaps beyond what maiden modesty would warrant. I have told--I have shown you--how I love you. But you will not, I think, misunderstand or blame me; first, because I am, as you know, a wild, untutored girl, accustomed to speak frankly whatever thought, or fancy, or feeling, crosses my brain or heart; and, secondly, because this is an occasion in which concealment would be wrong to me and wrong to you--when I must tell you how I love you in order that you may see how terrible is the sacrifice of that love to duty."
"I do not misunderstand you, dear Bessy," I answered; "I will try to be more calm, more reasonable. You have said that I shall be the arbiter. When will you give me the explanations which will enable me to be so rightly? At present I can conceive no cause, I can imagine no possible motive, why you should not be my wife; and I fondly hope and trust that when all is explained, I can remove every doubt and scruple from your mind. But I promise you, my beloved, that if I see a reasonable motive, a just and righteous cause, I will endeavour by no sophistry to persuade you against your better judgment. I will endeavour to think for Bessy Davenport as I would think for myself, were my mind free and without passion. But, dearest Bessy, make the time short; tell me when you will give the whole explanation."