"Leave this matter as it is," answered her lover, hearing Mr. Croyland's carriage stop at the door;--"your father has snatched too eagerly at your words. Perhaps he has done so to gain time; but, at all events, the fault is his, not yours. If he speaks to you on the subject, you must tell the truth, and say you did not consent; but in everything else be passive--let him do with you what he will--take you to the altar, if he so pleases; but there must be the final struggle, Edith. There you must boldly and aloud refuse to wed a man you cannot love. There let the memory of your vows to me be ever present with you. It may seem cruel; but I exact it for your own sake. In the meantime, take means to let me know everything that happens, be it small or great--cast off all reserve towards Digby; tell him all, everything that takes place; tell your sister, too, or any one who can bear me the tidings. I shall be nearer than you think."
"Oh, Heaven, how will this end!" cried Edith, putting her hand in his--"God help me, Harry--God help me!"
"He will, dear girl," answered Leyton--"I feel sure he will. But remember what I have said. Fail not to tell Digby, or Zara, or any one who can bear the tidings to me, everything that occurs, every word that is spoken, every step that is taken. Think nothing too trifling. But there is your uncle's voice in the passage. Can you not inform him of that which you think yourself bound not to tell me? I mean the particulars of your father's situation."
"No; oh no!" replied Edith--"I dare tell no one, especially not my uncle. Though kind, and generous, and benevolent, yet he is hasty, and he might ruin all. Dared I tell any one on earth, Henry, it would be you; and if I loved you before--oh, how I must love you now, when instead of the anger, or even heat, which I expected you to display, you have shown yourself ready to sacrifice all for one who is hardly worthy of you."
Leyton pressed her to his bosom, and replied, "Real love is unselfish, Edith. I tell you, dearest, that I die if I lose you; yet, Edith Croyland shall never do what is wrong for Henry Leyton's sake. If in the past we did commit an error, if I should not have engaged you by vows without your parent's consent--though God knows that error has been bitterly visited on my head!--I am still ready to make atonement to the best of my power; but I will not consent that you should be causelessly made miserable, or sacrifice yourself and me, without benefit to any one. Trust to me, Edith--trust to me."
"I will, I will!" answered Edith Croyland; "who can I trust to else?"
Mr. Croyland was considerate; and knowing that Sir Henry Leyton was with his niece--for his young friend had passed him on the road--he paused for a moment in the vestibule, giving various orders and directions, in order to afford them a few minutes more of private conversation. When he went in, he was surprised to find Edith's face full of deep grief, and her eyes wet with tears, and still more when Leyton, after kissing her fair cheek, advanced towards him, saying, "I must go, my dear friend, nor can I accept your kind invitation to stay here to-night. But I am about to show myself a bold man, and ask you to give me almost the privilege of a son--that is, of coming and going, for the four or five next days, at my own will, and without question."
"What's all this?--what's all this?" cried Mr. Croyland; "a lovers' quarrel?--Ha, Edith? Ha, Harry?"
"Oh, no," answered Edith, giving her uncle her hand; "there never can be a quarrel between me and Henry Leyton."
"Well, then, what is it all?" exclaimed Mr. Croyland, turning from one to the other. "Mystery--mystery! I hate mystery, Harry Leyton.--However, you shall have your privilege; the doors shall be open. Come--go--do what you like. But if you are not a great fool, you will order over a post-chaise and four this very night, put her in, and be off for Gretna Green. I'll give you my parental benediction."