He approached her, but she eluded his grasp, and said: "Oh! dearest, dearest Cecil! do not ... do not outrage the memory of this night, hitherto so sacred ... do not lower me in your eyes, and my own."
"It must ... it shall be..."
"No, no; do not say it!"
"It is our only hope," he said, as he again clasped her in his arms.
"Cecil, Cecil, I am yours ... yours only will I be ... can you doubt it? ... but, oh! leave me now! leave me! leave me!"
She sank at his feet, raising her hands imploringly, and wept.
He was touched. The sight of this lovely girl, thus passionate in her sorrow, kneeling at his feet and imploring his pity, was more than he could withstand. All the wild passion and gross instincts which had been roused, were now calmed again with the rapidity which is usual in such moments of delirious excitement, when the soul seems not only susceptible of every influence bad or good, but also susceptible of the most violent and rapid changes.
He threw himself upon a chair, and bade her rise.
"God bless you! God bless you for that word!" she sobbed. "There spoke my own Cecil."
He was silent and humiliated. The flaring light of the candles just expiring in the socket, told her that they would soon be in darkness; and she shuddered at the thought, though not daring to disturb the sullen meditation in which he was indulging, by any prayer to him to depart. Each time the wayward light in its capricious action seemed on the point of being extinguished, a thrill of horror ran over her. The returning brightness brought returning courage.