“Appearances are deceitful,” he said, interrupting her. “Let me try to make you happy. Believe me, I have your welfare so at heart that I would sacrifice myself for your sake.”
She grew calmer as she listened to his words, and when he had ended, laid her hand again in his.
“You do not know me yet,” she said softly. “I will speak out now without fear and shame. I did love him, Lord Henry. Heaven knows how dearly I loved him when he passed me over for my sister; and when she treated him so heartlessly, my love for him seemed to grow the stronger. When he turned to me at last, I thought that life would be one long day of joy.”
She paused, and Lord Henry watched her with a growing reverence in his face.
“Then came that dreadful night,” she continued, “and all was at an end. The old love is dead, Lord Henry, and what you have seen to-night was but the agitation such a meeting would produce. Take me home now—take me home.”
“No,” he said tenderly; “you are agitated, my child. Let us walk a little longer. Marie,” he continued, as he held her hand in his, and made no attempt to move, “I once asked you to be an old man’s wife. I told you to-night how your happiness is mine. Forgive me if I ask you again—ask you to give me the right to protect you against the world, and while I remain here to devote my life to making yours glide happily, restfully on. Am I mad in asking this of you once more?”
She did not answer for some moments, but when she did she laid her other hand in his, and suffered him to draw her nearer to him till her head rested upon his shoulder.
Marie went straight back to her room and sat down to think, with her face buried in her hands, till she felt them touched, when she started up, and found her cousin gazing at her questioningly. She told Ruth all, the communication almost resulting in a quarrel, for the girl had fired up and accused her of cruelty.
“You are condemning him and yourself to misery,” she cried, “and I will speak. Oh, Marie, Marie! undo all this; I am sure that some day you will be sorry for it.”
“You foolish child,” said Marie, kissing her affectionately. “Oh, Ruthy, I wish we had known more of each other’s hearts. You are so good in your disposition that you judge the world according to your own standard.”